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•JAN  \ 





THE  subject  of  this  Memoir  was  little  known  outside 
the  world  of  scholars  ;  and  his  published  work  could 
give  but  a  partial  view  of  the  man,  while  in  him  the 
man  was  more  even  than  the  scholar.  A  scholar's  life 
contains  little  of  outward  incident,  and  it  has  been  my 
endeavour  to  tell  the  story  of  my  father's  life  so  far 
as  possible  in  his  own  words.  In  all  that  he  wrote  his 
real  self  is  shown,  and  nowhere  more  than  in  his  letters. 
Hence  this  book  may  perhaps  justify  itself,  if  it  enables 
the  voice  of  a  man  who  was  interested  in  such  a 
variety  of  subjects,  and  who  spoke  always  with  such 
'  singular  sincerity,'  to  reach  beyond  the  limited  circle 
of  those  who  were  privileged  to  know  him  in  life. 

For  the  earlier  years  at  least  the  epistolary  material 
is  enough,  I  think,  to  give  a  very  fair  portraiture. 
In  later  years  his  letters  became  inevitably  fewer 
and  shorter,  but  in  all  cases  I  have  not  scrupled  to 
insert  letters  which,  whatever  their  subjects,  help 
to  show  what  the  writer  was,  as  well  as  what  he 
did  and  thought.  I  should  add  perhaps  that  in  his 
letters  he  was  wont  to  express  his  opinions  with  con 
siderable  freedom  ;  he  would  unburden  himself  to  a 


friend  with  a  remarkable  absence  of  the  reserve  which 
otherwise  characterised  his  utterances.  For  this  very 
reason  it  would  not  be  right  to  give  to  the  world 
without  a  caution  views  which  he  never  meant  for 
publication  ;  moreover,  his  letters,  even  of  undergradu 
ate  days,  often  show  a  maturity  of  thought  and  expres 
sion  which  is  apt  to  make  one  forget  the  writer's  age. 

In  the  brief  narrative  which  accompanies  the  selec 
tion  of  correspondence,  I  have  aimed  generally  at  little 
more  than  filling  up  with  necessary  dates  and  facts  the 
story  presented  in  the  letters.  For  obvious  reasons  a 
critical  biography  could  not  be  part  of  my  plan,  and, 
if  my  narrative  is  more  than  necessarily  jejune,  it  is 
because  I  have  tried  so  far  as  possible  to  avoid  a  tone 
of  eulogy  which  would  have  been  very  unfitting,  and 
which  my  father  would  vehemently  have  deprecated — 
if  indeed  he  would  have  approved  of  his  life  being 
written  at  all.  I  am  conscious,  however,  that  I  have  not 
altogether  succeeded  in  keeping  the  balance  ;  I  could 
wish  that  this  were  the  only  shortcoming  in  the 
execution  of  a  task  which  has  been  one  of  considerable 
difficulty  as  well  as  of  extreme  delight.  I  have  quoted 
freely  from  the  words,  written  or  printed,  of  others, 
especially  in  cases  where  I  could  claim  no  special 
knowledge,  or  where  it  was  difficult  for  a  son  to  adopt 
the  necessary  *  detachment '  of  attitude. 

To  all  such,  and  to  very  many  others,  named  or 
unnamed  in  these  pages,  I  am  deeply  indebted  ; 
especially  to  the  Bishop  of  Durham,  for  the  generous 
freedom  which  he  has  allowed  me  in  the  use  of  his 



letters  ;  to  Mrs.  Ellerton,  for  invaluable  help  of  the 
same  kind ;  to  Professor  Ryle,  who,  to  his  numerous 
other  acts  of  devotion  to  my  father's  name,  has  added 
that  of  reading  the  proofs  and  giving  me  his  counsel ; 
and  above  all,  to  one  without  whose  constant  aid  I 
could  not  have  attempted  this  book. 

I  desire  also  to  thank  Miss  J.  Craig  for  clerical  assist 
ance,  given  in  a  manner  and  in  a  spirit  on  which  my 
father  himself  would  have  bestowed  the  praise  of 
'guileless  workmanship.' 

HARROW-ON-THE-HILL,  November  1895. 









1841-1846.     Age  13-18. 




1846-1850.     Age  18-22. 



1851-1857.     Age  22-29. 





1857-1863.     Age  29-35. 





'ENTON  JOHN  ANTHONY  HORT  was  born  at  Dublin 
the  23rd  of  April  1828.  His  father,  Fenton  Hort,  was  the 
grandson  of  Josiah  Hort,  who  is  the  earliest  of  the  name 
of  whom  any  record  is  preserved.  Josiah's  father  lived 
at  Marshfield,  near  Bath,  but  that  is  the  solitary  fact  in 
his  history  handed  down  to  his  descendants.  His  son, 
of  whom  an  account  is  given  in  the  Dictionary  of  National 
Biography,  was  brought  up  as  a  Nonconformist,  and 
was  a  schoolfellow  and  lifelong  friend  of  Isaac  Watts,1 
who  spoke  of  him  as  "  the  first  genius  in  the  academy," 
viz.  an  academy  for  Nonconformist  ministers  to  which 
they  both  belonged.  Hort  conformed  after  a  time  to 
the  Church  of  England,  and  went  to  Clare  College, 
Cambridge  ;  in  1 709  he  crossed  to  Ireland  as  chap 
lain  to  Earl  Wharton,  the  Lord -Lieutenant.  Lord 
Wharton's  chaplain  presently  obtained  a  parish,  whence 
he  rose,  through  the  deaneries  of  Cloyne  and  Ardagh, 
and  two  bishoprics,  of  Ferns  and  Leighlin,  and  of  Kil- 
more  and  Ardagh,  to  be  Archbishop  of  Tuam.  He 
enjoyed  some  repute  as  a  preacher,  and  a  volume  of  his 

1  See  Milner's  Life  of  Dr.  Watts  (Cambridge,  1834). 
VOL.  I  B 

2          FENTON  JOHN  ANTHONY  HORT       CHAP. 

sermons  "  on  practical  subjects  "  went  through  several 
editions.  He  is  said  to  have  been  the  last  magnate 
who  ate  his  dinner  from  a  wooden  trencher.  Dean 
Swift  made  a  violent  attack  upon  him  in  a  satirical 
poem  ;  the  rise  of  the  English  clergyman  was  apparently 
unpopular  in  Ireland,  and  he  had  to  contend  with  much 
opposition.  Swift,  however,  became  afterwards  so  far 
friendly  that  he  procured  for  Hort  (or  Horte,  as  he 
sometimes  spelt  his  name)  the  publication  of  a  satire 
on  the  prevalence  of  the  game  of  quadrille  in  society. 
He  was  disabled  from  preaching  by  an  overstrain  of  the 
voice  some  years  before  he  became  Archbishop.  In  the 
preface  to  his  sermons  he  uses  his  own  experience  to 
point  a  warning  to  "  all  young  preachers  whose  organs 
of  speech  are  tender."  The  secret,  he  says,  of  public 
speaking  lies  "  in  finding  out  the  right  key."  He  depre 
cates  loudness  and  vehemence,  and  concludes  with  the 
remark  :  "  Experience  shows  that  a  moderate  Degree 
of  Voice,  with  a  proper  and  distinct  Articulation,  is 
better  understood  in  all  Parts  of  a  Church  than  a 
Thunder  of  Lungs  that  is  rarely  distinct,  and  never 
agreeable  to  the  Audience."  The  sermons  themselves 
are  expressed  in  simple  and  dignified  language  ;  indeed 
the  English  is  perhaps  better  than  the  divinity.  The 
author  shows  an  anxiety  to  interpret  the  Bible  in  a 
manner  "  agreeable  to  the  Principles  of  Philosophy  and 
Morality,"  and  he  displays  some  ingenuity  in  the 
attempt ;  for  instance,  when  he  explains  the  doctrine  of 
Original  Sin  by  the  suggestion  that  the  tree  of  which 
Adam  ate  contained  in  its  juice  a  "  slow  poison  which, 
being  incorporated  with  the  Blood  of  our  first  Parents, 
might  in  a  natural  course  be  transfused  through  the 
Veins  of  all  their  Posterity,  and  carry  with  it  irregular 
Desires  and  Passions,  as  well  as  Diseases  and  Death," 


This  somewhat  startlingly  literal  exegesis  is  illustrated 
by  reference  to  "  a  Tree  in  our  American  colonies  (the 
Manchineel  Tree)  that  bears  a  very  beautiful  apple,  which 
yet  has  poisoned  many."  The  author  is  perhaps  more 
fortunate  in  his  practical  discourses,  one  of  which  is 
entitled,  "  Great  knowledge  no  excuse  for  neglecting  to 
hear  sermons,"  while  another  contains  a  rather  forcible 
protest  against  duelling :  "  I  could  therefore  wish,"  he 
concludes,  "  that  our  gallant  spirits  would  consider  these 
Things  when  Affronts  are  broiling  in  their  Stomachs, 
and  their  Blood  is  kindling  to  draw  the  Sword  for  an 
ill-chosen  or  ill-understood  Word." 

The  Archbishop  died  in  1751.  In  his  will  he 
exhorted  his  children  to  carry  out  his  intentions  in  their 
obvious  sense,  "  without  having  recourse  to  law  and  the 
subtilty  of  lawyers " ;  in  case  of  difficulty,  he  desires 
them  to  refer  the  question  to  "  the  decision  of  persons 
of  known  probity  and  wisdom,  this  being  not  only  the 
most  Christian,  but  the  most  prudent  and  cheap  and 
summary  way  of  deciding  all  differences." 

He  had  married  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Fitzmaurice, 
daughter  of  the  Lord  of  Kerry ;  their  second  son, 
John,  married  the  daughter  of  Sir  Fitzgerald  Aylmer, 
of  Donadea,  who  belonged  to  a  branch  of  the  Butler 
family  ;  moreover,  two  of  the  Archbishop's  daughters 
married  into  the  Caldwell  and  Coghill  families  respec 
tively,  so  that  not  many  years  after  Josiah's  migration 
the  Horts  had  established  a  fair  claim  to  be  considered 

John  Hort  was  appointed  in  1767  Consul-General 
at  Lisbon,  and  was  made  a  baronet  the  same  year.  He 
was  sent  out  by  Lord  Lansdowne  as  a  trusted  semi- 
political  agent,  and  it  appears  that  the  Government  and 
the  English  ambassador  were  often  annoyed  because 


earlier  information  was  thus  obtained  than  they  could 
themselves  command.  Attempts  were  made  to  detain 
him  in  England,  but  he  spent  thirty  years  in  Portugal, 
and  then  retired  on  a  pension.  An  estate  in  Co.  Kildare, 
called  Hortland,  came  to  him  on  the  death  of  his  elder 
brother.  If  one  may  judge  of  him  by  a  fine  portrait, 
he  was  a  man  of  considerable  power.  He  is  said  to 
have  been  of  peculiar  temperament,  and  something  of  a 

Sir  John  had  three  sons  and  two  daughters.  The 
third  son,  Fen  ton,  who  was  the  father  of  the  subject 
of  this  memoir,  was  educated  at  Westminster  School 
and  at  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  where  he  obtained 
a  scholarship.  He  was  one  of  the  original  members  of 
the  Union  Debating  Society,  which  was  founded  in 
1815,  and  temporarily  suppressed  by  authority  in 
1817,  W.  Whewell  being  at  the  time  president  and  C. 
Thirlwall  secretary. 

In  1830,  four  years  after  his  marriage  to  Anne 
Collett,  daughter  of  a  Suffolk  clergyman,  and  descended, 
I  believe,  from  Dean  Colet,  Fenton  Hort  bought  a 
house  near  Dublin,  called  Leopardstown  ;  it  was 
delightfully  situated  at  the  foot  of  the  Three  Rock 
Mountain,  with  a  view  of  Dublin  Bay  in  front  Here, 
after  his  father's  death,  his  mother  lived  with  him  for 
part  of  the  year ;  the  rest  he  spent  at  her  house  in 
Merrion  Square,  Dublin. 

At  this  house  on  St.  George's  Day,  1828,  Fenton, 
his  eldest  son,  was  born.  When  he  was  nine  years 
old,  his  father  sold  Leopardstown,  and  migrated  to 
Cheltenham,  after  a  temporary  residence  at  Kelsall 
Hall,  lent  him  by  Mr.  Collett,  and  a  short  stay  at 
Boulogne,  where  Fenton  at  the  age  of  ten  was  sent 
to  his  first  school.  His  master,  a  Mr.  Bird,  in  December 


1838  reported  of  his  pupil  as  "by  far  more  industrious 
and  advanced  than  any  of  his  class-fellows  ;  in  fact,  he 
renders  all  the  rest  lazy  since  they  all  depend  on  him 
for  '  the  construe.' "  He  was  then  about  to  begin 
"  Homer  and  Xenophon's  Anabasis  with  Horace  or 
Virgil  and  Cicero."  At  Cheltenham  Mr.  Fenton  Hort 
resided  in  various  houses  till  1851,  his  mother  living 
with  him  till  her  death  in  1843.  The  move  from 
Leopardstown  was  made  rather  suddenly,  and  my 
father  was  never  in  Ireland  again  till  he  went  to  Dublin 
in  1888  to  receive  an  honorary  degree  from  the 
University.  On  this  occasion,  after  the  lapse  of  over 
fifty  years,  he  drew  overnight  from  memory  a  plan  of 
the  house  and  grounds  at  Leopardstown,  which  he  the 
next  day  compared  with  the  reality,  and  found  to  be 
completely  accurate.  Of  his  early  years  there  and  at 
Cheltenham  it  is  unfortunately  impossible  to  recover 
more  than  a  fragmentary  account.  He  used  to  look 
back  to  the  Leopardstown  home  and  days  with  the 
most  loving  recollection,  especially  when  across  a  time 
of  grievous  troubles  that  earliest  period  stood  out  as 
one  of  peculiar  peace  and  happiness.  Many  years  later, 
in  describing  the  Fellows'  garden  at  Trinity,  he  dwelt 
with  a  special  delight  on  the  flowers,  the  blue  Apennine 
anemone  and  the  scented  Daphne  Cneorum,  which  he 
associated  with  favourite  nooks  in  the  beautiful  old  Irish 

School  letters  show  the  kind  of  relation  which 
existed  between  Fenton  and  the  rest  of  the  home 
circle.  Of  the  father  no  truer  description  could  be 
given  than  that  contained  in  a  touching  letter1  written 
by  his  eldest  son  to  his  own  children  in  1878.  His 
quiet,  unostentatious,  unselfish  nature  comes  back  to 
1  See  vol.  ii.  pp.  198-201. 

6          FENTON  JOHN  ANTHONY  HORT       CHAP. 

those  who  knew  it  with  almost  a  regret,  as  if  its  beauty, 
even  by  reason  of  its  own  self-forgetfulness,  had  been  at 
the  time  but  half  realised.      He  had  no  profession,  but 
was  always  a  busy  man.      In  the  Irish  days  he  was 
much  occupied  with  the  administration  of  the  Poor  Law, 
and  with  many  other  kindred  things.      In   Cheltenham 
he  took   up   the  same  kind   of  work,  visited   a  great 
deal   among  the  poor,  and  had   a  considerable  share 
in   the   establishment   of  the   Cheltenham   Proprietary 
College,  of  which  he  became  a  governor.     The  same 
unobtrusive   devotion   was    shown    in   the   direction  of 
his   own   household,   where  a   strict   regime   prevailed, 
and  all  were  expected  to  conform  to  the  rules  of  the 
house.      Towards   his   children  he  was   all  gentleness 
and  tenderness,  though  his  training  of  them,  like  their 
mother's,  was  based  on   implicit  obedience.     Though 
not  demonstrative  in  showing  affection,  he  was  a  man 
who  loved  much  and  felt  much  ;   the  past,  especially 
the  past  of  his  own  family,  was  constantly  with  him. 
He  was  a  most  tender  son  to  the  mother  who  shared 
his  home  till  her  death ;  the  loss  of  his  sister  at  an 
early  age  was  a  calamity  whose  effect  had  not  worn 
off  at  the  very  end    of  his   life.      He   treasured  little 
memorials   of  those  whom   he   had   lost   with   almost 
womanly  care.       One    characteristic    at    least    he    be 
queathed   to   his  son,  a   fastidious    love   of  order  and 
method.      This    trait    is    curiously    illustrated    by   the 
numerous  ingeniously  contrived  cardboard  boxes,  still 
extant,   and   sometimes   of  the   oddest   shapes,   which 
he  delighted  to  make  ;  his  wife  called  them  his  '  con 
traptions.'      In  a  word,  he  was   thoroughly  domestic  ; 
home  to  him  was  everything,  and  the  home  life  was 
a     real     society.       Parents    and    children    spent    long 
evenings    together    after    six -o'clock    dinner,   and    the 


father  frequently  read  aloud,  Scott  being  perhaps  the 
favourite  author.  This  custom  survived  long  after  all 
the  children  were  grown  up. 

The  mother,  who,  unconsciously  perhaps,  was  the 
real  controlling  force  of  the  household,  was  a  woman 
of  great  mental  power,  which  she  brought  to  bear  on 
every  detail  of  daily  life.  She  had  been  extremely 
well  educated,  so  far  as  the  opportunities  of  that  day 
allowed  ;  in  English  especially  her  training  had  been 
sound,  and  she  could  always  express  herself  easily  and 
gracefully  ;  both  in  writing  and  in  speaking  she  used 
words  in  the  most  exact  manner.  Her  education  had 
given  her  the  thoroughness  and  scrupulous  accuracy 
which  she  transmitted  to  her  son.  She  grasped  firmly 
whatever  she  took  in  hand  and  mastered  any  book 
which  she  read.  Her  reading  was  not  wide,  but  she 
was  interested  in  current  literature  of  the  more  serious 
sort,  such  as  biographies  and  books  of  travel.  Her 
religious  feelings  were  deep  and  strong.  Circumstances 
had  made  her  an  adherent  of  the  Evangelical  school, 
and  she  was  to  a  certain  degree  hampered  by  it  ;  the 
Oxford  Movement  filled  her  with  dread  and  anxiety 
as  to  its  possible  effect  on  her  son.  She  was  unable 
to  enter  into  his  theological  views,  which  to  her  school 
and  generation  seemed  a  desertion  of  the  ancient 
ways  ;  thus,  pathetically  enough,  there  came  to  be  a 
barrier  between  mother  and  son.  The  close  inter 
course  on  subjects  which  lay  nearest  to  the  hearts  of 
each  was  broken,  to  the  loss  and  sorrow  of  both. 
His  love  and  veneration  for  his  mother  remained 
unimpaired,  and  his  letters  to  her  show  his  delicate 
consideration  for  her  different  point  of  view ;  but  it  is 
sad  that  he  should  have  had  to  recognise  that  the 
point  of  view  was  different.  She  studied  and  knew  her 

8          FENTON  JOHN  ANTHONY  HORT       CHAP. 

Bible  well,  and  her  own  religious  life  was  most  carefully 
regulated.  She  had  a  fine  ear  for  music,  and  it  was 
a  rare  pleasure  to  hear  her  read  aloud.  Her  spirits 
were  naturally  high,  and  she  faced  the  ordinary  ups 
and  downs  of  life  with  cheerful  courage  ;  but  ill-health, 
brought  on  probably  by  the  loss,  within  a  few  months, 
of  two  of  her  children,  robbed  her  of  her  natural 
brightness  and  caused  often  painful  depression.  In 
bringing  up  her  children  she  was  strong  enough  to 
be  able  to  combine  the  enforcement  of  very  strict 
domestic  discipline  with  close  sympathy  in  all  childish 
ways  and  interests.  The  very  keynote  of  her  character 
was  truthfulness ;  untruth  in  any  shape  was  her  ab 
horrence.  Almost  equally  characteristic  was  her 
hatred  of  all  half  performance.  "  I  hate  mediocrity  " 
was  one  of  her  many  favourite  sayings.  It  is  easy  to 
understand  how  straight,  under  such  guidance,  the  path 
of  duty  became  to  her  children  ;  the  daily  tasks  must 
be  learnt  and  said,  and  nothing  might  stand  in  the 
way.  There  is  a  story  of  her  sitting  with  her  eldest 
son  on  a  roll  of  carpet  during  some  '  flitting '  of  the 
family,  and  going  through  the  appointed  lessons,  with 
which  no  temporary  discomfort  could  be  allowed  to 
interfere.  Yet  she  was  no  Spartan  mother  ;  strength 
of  will  and  inflexibility  of  purpose  did  not  make  her, 
any  more  than  they  made  her  son,  incapable  of  ten 
derness.  It  is  difficult  to  analyse  such  a  character. 
This  sketch  must  suffice  to  indicate  the  nature  of  her 
influence  on  her  family.  To  her  it  is  evident  that  in 
a  great  degree  her  son  owed  his  absolute  truthfulness 
of  soul,  uprightness  of  character,  and  overmastering 
sense  of  duty  ;  and  not  least,  the  deep  trust  in  God 
which  he  inherited  from  her  own  courageous  convic 
tion,  and  which  was  strengthened  by  her  careful 


religious  training.  This  was  based  upon  a  close 
study  of  the  Bible,  of  the  children's  knowledge  of 
which  in  quite  early  years  records  remain  which  might 
astonish  many  older  children.  The  effects  of  such 
training  were  very  deep  and  lasting,  however  much 
particular  theological  opinions  were  modified  in  later 
years  ;  the  simple  piety  and  reverential  spirit  which 
passed  from  mother  to  son  remained  unaffected  by 
time  and  experience. 

At  the  time  of  the  move  from  Ireland  there  were 
four  children — two  girls  and  two  boys  ;  the  second  boy, 
Arthur,  was  three  years  Fenton's  junior  ;  his  sisters, 
Margaret  and  Catharine,  were  born  in  1830  and  1833 
respectively.  A  third  daughter,  Josephine,  was  born 
at  Boulogne  in  1838,  but  died  at  the  age  of  three. 
This  was  the  beginning  of  trouble.  Only  five  months 
later  Arthur,  a  child  whose  sweetness  of  disposition 
and  bright  intelligence  impress  one  wonderfully  even  in 
the  slight  records  of  his  short  life,  died  from  the  after 
effects  of  measles.  His  loss  had  the  profoundest  effect 
on  his  brother.  The  series  of  diaries  which  he  kept  from 
1842  to  1892  is  broken  only  once,  and  that  during  a 
period  of  two  and  a  half  years  from  Arthur's  death. 

The  family  having  settled  in  Cheltenham,  Fenton 
was  sent  in  the  spring  of  1839,  being  then  just  eleven 
years  old,  to  the  well-known  preparatory  school  of  the 
Rev.  John  Buckland  at  Laleham,  where  he  stayed  till 
the  end  of  the  following  year.  Mr.  Buckland  laid 
great  stress  on  accurate  grammatical  knowledge,  and 
required  rules  of  syntax  to  be  learnt  by  heart,  but  he 
mentions  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Fenton  Hort  that  he  does 
not  any  longer  insist  on  \heproprta  quae  maribus  or 
the  as  in  praesenti  being  committed  to  memory.  The 
learning  of  large  quantities  of  Latin  verse  was  in 


vogue  at  Laleham,  as  at  Rugby,  the  first  two  books  of 
the  odes  of  Horace,  for  instance,  being  set  as  a  '  prize- 
task  '  to  boys  of  twelve  or  thirteen.  Mr.  Buckland's 
first  regular  report  of  Fenton  speaks  of  him  as  "  a  very 
promising  pupil,"  and  says  that  there  is  no  doubt  of 
his  becoming  "  a  first-rate  scholar."  A  year  later  he 
speaks  in  even  higher  terms,  and  he  does  not  seem  to 
have  been  a  man  who  shrank  from  giving  true  reports 
to  the  parents.  At  the  age  of  twelve  and  a  half  the 
boy  had  apparently  been  well  grounded  in  Classics, 
Algebra,  and  the  first  three  books  of  Euclid.  Mr. 
Buckland's  chief  complaint  was  that  he  wanted  more 
taste  for  games.  At  the  time  of  his  leaving  Laleham 
he  predicts  a  distinguished  future  as  the  certain  out 
come  of  his  "  indefatigable  perseverance  and  foundation 
of  good  scholarship."  When  asked  by  Mr.  Hort  to 
point  out  any  flaws  in  the  boy's  character,  he  mentions 
that  he  has  heard  of  him  as  somewhat  overbearing 
with  other  boys,  a  characteristic  which  assuredly  was 
not  permanent.  Of  his  home  letters  from  Laleham 
unfortunately  none  have  been  preserved,  but  a  delight 
ful  picture  of  the  relations  between  the  brothers  is 
given  by  Arthur's  letters  of  the  year  1840,  when  he 
was  eight  to  nine  years  old  ;  and  the  parents'  letters 
add  something  to  the  impression.  It  is  difficult  to 
make  out  at  this  distance  of  time  what  they  thought  of 
their  eldest  son  ;  it  is  certain  that  they  recognised  his 
ability  and  force  of  character,  and  it  is  equally  certain 
that  they  never  put  him  forward  or  in  any  way  made 
a  show  of  him.  Separate  copies  of  Fenton's  letters 
from  school  and  of  extracts  from  his  reports  were  made 
by  the  father  for  himself  and  his  wife,  and  preserved  in 
neat  cases  made  by  his  own  hand. 

Fenton  seems  very  early  to  have  established  a  sort 


of  ascendancy  at  home.  Probably  the  characteristic 
which  chiefly  impressed  those  around  him  was  his 
force.  Definiteness  of  purpose  and  unswerving,  almost 
stern,  rectitude  of  conduct  seem  terms  hardly  appli 
cable  to  childhood,  but  it  is  evident  that  in  some  such 
unusual  ways  he  stood  out  as  a  marked  child  among 
those  of  his  own  age.  It  is  likely  that  he  was  not  a 
favourite  with  other  children  generally,  and  it  is  the 
more  pleasant  to  observe  how  entirely  he  and  his 
brother  understood  each  other ;  and  the  scores  of 
playful  letters  which  his  sister  Kate  wrote  to  him  help 
to  show  that  he  was  regarded  at  home  with  respect, 
but  not  with  distant  respect ;  yet  one  gathers  that 
even  there  he  was  looked  up  to  with  a  feeling  not 
far  removed  from  fear,  as  a  being  of  character  some 
what  alarmingly  strong  and  unyielding.  Yet  the 
sweetness  of  disposition,  which  was  perhaps  the  most 
conspicuous  side  of  his  character  to  those  who  learnt 
to  know  him  in  his  latest  years,  is  discernible  in  his 
earliest  letters,  in  which  moreover  nothing  comes  out 
so  clearly  as  his  thorough  boyishness.  On  the  sunny 
side  of  his  disposition  he  had  much  in  common  with 
his  brilliant  and  delightful  younger  sister  (afterwards 
Mrs.  Garnons  Williams),  who  survived  him  but  a 
month.  No  picture  of  him  as  he  was  in  those  days 
has  survived,  but  he  is  said  to  have  been  singularly 
beautiful  as  a  little  child  ;  his  wonderful  blue  eyes, 
which  spoke  eloquently  of  the  vigorous  life  within, 
particularly  impressed  all  those  who  came  across 
him.  One  of  the  very  few  who  can  remember  him 
as  a  child  recalls  that  "  he  was  so  fond  of  reading 
that  he  generally  buried  himself  in  some  nook  with  a 
book,  and  his  mother  often  laughed  at  his  gravity  and 
studious  habits.  He  was  reserved  and  silent,  always 


kind  and  amiable  in  manner,  and  unselfish,  but  we  all 
were  surprised  at  the  way  he  came  out  in  conversation  ; 
as  a  young  man  he  could  talk  on  any  topic,  and  his 
company  was  a  real  treat." 


FARNLEY  LODGE,  Wenesday,  February  iqth,  1840. 

Dearest  Fenton — I  was  very  glad  to  hear  from  you.  I 
want  to  know  what  was  the  name  of  the  room  in  which  you 
sleep.  I  have  begun  Greek  with  Mr.  Kershaw  I  shall  say 
to-day  Ttpy  I  think  that  the  caracters  are  rather  easy  and 
that  the  funnyist  small  letter  is  Xi  £.  I  have  nearly  finished 
the  As  in  praesenti.  I  am  not  going  to  do  any  more  of  it. 
You  have  had  Arnold's  Greek  Exercises  before  havenot  you  ? 
but  not  done  them.  As  to  being  out  of  Ellirs  I  do  not 
wonder  because  you  have  been  at  them  a  long  time  ever 
since  you  were  with  the  2d  Mr.  Smith.  I  saw  on  a  board 
that  there  would  be  a  steeplechase  on  April  ist.  Papa  thinks 
it  is  an  April  fool.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Mr.  Kershaw  has 
begun  to  give  me  marks  such  as  Bene,  Optime.  to-day  I 
had  my  first  one  it  was  Bene. 

Was  Priestley  at  all  hurt  when  he  knocked  his  head  against 
the  wall  ?  is  he  older  than  the  former  Priestley  ?  Madmoiselle 
Gobet  sends  her  compliments  to  you  and  told  me  not  to  for 
get  to  remember  you  not  to  forget  her.  You  have  the  same 
for  your  Prize-task  as  you  thought  you  would  have.  I  have 
given  up  the  Elegy  written  in  a  Country  Churchyard  because 
it  is  so  long  and  so  mournful  that  I  cannot  learn  it  so 
quick  as  another  thing  however  I  intend  learning  another 
thing  I  have  not  fixed  upon  one  yet.  Do  you  intend 
going  on  with  Henry  4t.h's  Soliloquy  on  sleep.  Do  you 
know  what  Stone  will  have  for  his  Prize-task  or  wether  it  is 
true  that  he  is  going  away  I  have  redd  most  of  "  Lamb's  Tales 
from  Shakspeare."  I  think  Puck  was  a  funny  fellow  in  the 
Midsummer's  night  dream. 

1  The  boys'  letters  in  this  and  the  next  chapter  are  printed  with  the 
original  spelling  and  punctuation. 


Grandmamma  told  us  a  funny  story  of  old  Catty  who 
was  a  servant  of  Lady  Aylmer.  Catty  begged  to  sleep  in  a 
little  room  that  was  not  in  the  house  but  near  the  Garden 
stove,  after  a  few  nights  Catty  came  to  Lady  Aylmer  and 
begged  to  be  taken  back  to  sleep  in  the  house  she  said  she 
heard  the  Fairies  go  by  crying  Quis  Quis  Quis  Quis  Miss 
Sharland  Mag  Kit  Nurse  and  Lucy  all  send  their  love  to  you 
Goodbye  dear  Fenton  and  Believe  me  your  ever  affectionate 
Brother,  A.  J.  HORT. 

Post-Script. — Excuse  Bad  writing  blots  mistakes  etcr- 


FARNLEY  LODGE,  February  2$fk,  1840. 

Dearest  Fenton — I  think  you  asked  me  in  your  last  letter 
but  one  if  I  ever  played  cricket  with  Nurse  I  never  play  it 
now.  We  have  had  several  falls  of  snow  since  you  went  to 
Laleham  but  the  snow  has  all  melted  away.  You  said  you 
hoped  I  like  Greek  I  like  it  very  much.  I  did  not  know  that 
you  ever  had  the  mark  Melius.  I  do  not  wonder  that  you 
are  surprised  at  our  going  on  with  Mdle.  Gobet.  Our  quarter 
is  up  but  we  are  to  have  8  lessons  more  though  only  on 
Wenesdays.  As  to  Greek  I  know  all  the  caracters  pretty 
well  ?;  and  //,  sadly  puzzle  me  they  are  so  much  akin.  When 
will  you  begin  learning  your  Prize-task  ?  I  have  looked  at  that 
board  since  and  I  am  afraid  it  is  not  an  April  fool  as  it  is 
annual.  I  found  the  tracts  you  gave  me  I  showed  Mr. 
Kershaw  your  Musae  Musam  eating  Rasberry  jam  and  he 
laughed  heartily  at  it.  If  you  like  that  when  a  magazine 
comes  I  should  send  you  the  heads  of  the  index  I  will  do  so 
if  not  tell  me  in  your  next  letter.  I  hope  when  you  say  your 
Prize-task  you  will  say  it  without  a  mistake  I  have  fixed  upon 
Cowper's  tithe  paying  here  it  is 


Now  all  unwecome  at  his  gate 
the  clumsy  swains  alight 
with  rueful  faces  and  bald  pates 
he  trembles  at  the  sight 



I  will  not  give  you  any  more  of  it  except  one  verse  because  I 
daresay  you  know  it.      5th  verse. 

one  wipes  his  nose  upon  his 
sleeve  one  spits  upon  the  floor 
yet  not  to  give  offence  or  grieve 
holds  up  the  cloth  before. 

I  think  Cowper  must  have  had  some  very  funny  ideas  in  his 
head  when  he  wrote  it. 


FARLEY  LODGE,  April  i$th,  1840. 

Dearest  Fenton — As  it  is  my  turn  to  write  to  you  I  must 
scribble  a  few  lines.  We  have  not  been  to  the  royal  wells  for 
a  week  so  I  cannot  tell  about  the  Cockeys  our  gardens  are 
in  pretty  good  order.  We  got  this  morning  4  Sweetwilliams 
4  pinks  4  Phyollox  and  4  Polyanthuses  plants  one  each  and 
i  of  them  for  you.  Papa  and  Mamma  gave  them  to  us.  As 
to  Greek  I  am  learning  the  Adjectives  I  will  send  you  a  small 
plan  of  our  gardens  here  it  is.  ...  Here  is  a  little  note  from 
Kit.  Wednesday  Dear  Jim  Crow  I  have  finished  "  Le 
premier  pas  "  and  learnt  "  Leiber  Augustin  "  "  the  Guaracha  " 
and  the  "  national  Russian  waltz "  and  a  few  other  tunes. 
Goodbye.  C.  Hort. 

My  seeds  are  nasturtium,  Mignionette  Coronella  Secunda 
Lord  Anson's  peas  Sweet  pea  and  Major  Convolvolus.  Mag 
mistook  a  little  about  the  Zoologicals  there  were  3  sea  eagles 
instead  of  2  no  grand  show  of  birds  among  the  stuffed  I  noticed 
the  following — 

Sacred  Ibis,  Gulls,  Stork,  White  owl,  Spoonbill  and  a  couple 
of  stuffed  monkeys  not  in  a  case  As  to  living  there  were  few 
birds  there  were  however  some  cockeys  canarys  bul  and 
Chaf-inches  parrots  and  piping  crow  from  New  Holland  as 
also  a  few  doves  Golden  pheasants,  common  pheasants  and 
foreign  and  common  partridges.  The  east  India  people  are 
silent  for  the  present  The  Chinese  are  irruptious  as  the  last 
accounts  said  there  was  a  naval  engagement.  there  are  a 
good  many  men  of  war  lying  about  Chili.  I  think  they  ought 
to  say  "We  will  lick  you  if  we  can"  instead  of  "We  will 

lick  you " — but  they  have  said  neither  but  I  hope,  they 
will  make  peace.  Babsy  sends  you  60  kisses,  and  Meg  or 
rather  Peg  with  a  wooden  leg  Kit  Charles  Baby's  pap  mum 
and  Gander  all  send  their  loves  to  you.  Goodbye  dearest 
Sen  and  believe  me  your  ever  affectionate  Brother, 



Friday,  September  \%>th  [1840]. 

My  dearest  Arthur — I  was  very  glad  to  receive  a  letter 
from  you,  and  to  hear  about  your  garden,  etc. ;  it  makes  me 
feel  not  quite  so  far  from  you  all  as  I  really  am ;  I  very  often 
think  of  what  you  are  doing.  .  .  .  The  outside  of  the  house 
at  Haveningham  is  so  completely  altered,  I  should  not  have 
known  it  for  my  dear  old  home.  I  have  not  seen  the  inside, 
for  Mrs.  Owen  is  too  unwell  to  admit  visitors ;  I  should  like 
to  see  it. — We  must  think  often  of  the  many  mansions  of  our 
Heavenly  Father's  House,  and,  my  darling,  how  happy  it  will 
be  if  we  all  meet  there  ;  not  one  missing,  of  all  our  household 
here ;  then  we  shall  care  no  more  what  home  we  had  in  this 
world,  than  we  care  now  what  sort  of  cradle  we  were  rocked 
in. — So  let  us  all  press  forward  ! 

[In  late  summer  1840] 

FARNLEY  LODGE,  Friday,  2$th. 

My  dearest  Fenton — I  took  the  first  opportunity  to  write 
to  you.  None  of  the  seeds  you  mentioned  are  ripe  but  there 
are  3  seeds  of  Nasturtium  ripe  that  pod  of  sweet  pea  of 
yours  that  we  thought  was  nearly  ripe  is  rotten  Harry  came 
to  play  with  me  on  Sat.  in  the  afternoon  and  both  came  in 

the  even  came  here  on  thursday  2oth  he is  not 

a  nice  boy.     he  often  swears.     I  am  afraid  I  have  lost  my 

trap  bat.     goes   to  Mr.    Kershaws   school.     Mr.    Ker- 

shaw  calls  him  a  rum  chap  I  can't  say  I  like  him  I  will  give 
you  what  he  swore  to  me  the  other  day  "  Upon  my  honour 
Upon  my  soul  I  swear  if  the  bible  was  here  Id  kiss  it  and 


swear  "  I  was  quite  shocked  at  all  he  swore  on  Saturday — I 
hope  he  wont  do  so  again  He  does  not  play  cricket  by  rule 
He  bowled  to  me  overhand  when  I  was  not  ready  without 
saying  play  hit  my  wicket  and  said  I  was  out  I  told  him  I  was 
not  but  would  go  out  he  said  he  had  seen  many  bigger  boys 
play  so.  ...  Goodbye  dear  Fenton  and  believe  me  your 
most  affectete  Brother  ARTHUR  HORT. 

(P. — S. — I  am  in  a  hurry  as  Miss  Sharland  is  going  to  the 
Royall  wellls  and  I  must  go  after  Her  I  wrote  as  well  as  I 

FROM  THE  SAME.     [In  Autumn  1840] 


Dearest  Fenton —  .  .  .  is  a  getting  a  little  bit  better. 

He  used  the  other  day  nevertheless  this  expression  By  holy, 
Go  to  hell,  The  Devil  take  you  and  an  ilnatured  expression 
though  it  does  no  harm  to  me  Woe  betide  you.  I  pretended 
to  lick  him  the  other  day  but  did  not  really  strike  him  but  he 
pretended  his  nose  bled  however  I  knew  it  was  only  nonsense 
for  I  literally  touched  his  nose  with  the  back  of  my  hand  but 
pray  do  not  say  a  word  about  what  I  tell  you  of  him  in  your 
letters.  He  generally  gets  naughty  and  Miss  Sharland  says 
she  will  give  him  a  dose  of  castor  oil  which  soon  sends  him 
away  All  send  their  love  I  have  nothing  more  to  say  so 
goodbye  dearest  Fenton  and  believe  me  your  most  affectionate 
Brother  ARTHUR  HORT. 

P. — S. — I  have  sent  you  a  long  letter. 

FROM  THE  SAME.     [In  Autumn  1840] 

FARNLEY  LODGE,  Friday,  30^  [Oct.  (?)]. 

Dearest  Fenton — I  have  lots  to  tell  you.  ...  I  begun  a 
Greek  Delectus  to-day  with  Mr.  Kershaw  There  are  several 
great  boxes  of  books  come  from  poor  old  Leopardstown  and 
also  Grandmamma's  poor  old  stools  and  chairs  worked  and 
My  china  French  poodle  dog  like  a  lion  and  lamb,  resting  on 
a  mound  with  red  flowers,  and  some  little  affairs  of  yours. 
There  are  5  Lectures  being  delivered  at  the  Philosopic 
institution  by  Dr.  Cantor.  The  first  is  "The  intellectual 


faculties.  Consciousness.  Conception.  Memory.  Improvement 
of  Memory.  Imagination.  Asbstraction.  Judgement, — Reason 
Lecture  2d  Theory  of  sleep  dreaming  singular  pophetic 
dream's.  Fallacy  of  the  senses.  Apparitions, — Ghosts.  Lec 
ture  3d  Sleep  walking, — sleep  talking,  Animal  magnetism  in 
Germany  France  and  England  various  modes  of  Magnetism 
Effects  produced  Animal  Magnetism  as  a  curative  Agent. 
These  three  have  been  delivered  already.  I  will  tell  you  the 
rest  in  my  next  letter. — Goodbye  Dearest  Fenton  and  believe 
me  your  ever  affecte  brother  ARTHUR  HORT. 

P. — S. — Don't  think  I  foraget  Christmas. 

FARNLEY  LODGE,  Friday  {November  1840  (?)]. 

My  dearest  Fenton. — As  it  is  now  again  Friday  I  write  to 
you.  I  have  got  3  of  Aconitum  Versicolor  which  I  think  is 
the  same  as  Eranthis  Hyemalis  or  Golden  Ball  I  got  them 
at  Jessop's  as  Megg's  had  nothing  of  the  sort,  for  2d.  a  piece 
I  had  a  good  deal  of  difficulty  in  making  the  men  understand 
what  I  wanted  for  they  did  not  know  it  under  the  name  of 
"  Eranthis  Hyemalis  "  but  from  their  description  I  think  it  is 
the  same.  I  have  got  \  of  100  of  snowdrops  for  9d.  most  of 
them  being  double,  they  are  35.  a  hundred.  You  tell  me  I 
said  Vous  voyera.  then  certainly  it  was  a  great  mistake  !  and 
I  must  have  been  asleep  when  I  wrote  it !  and  I  felt  quite 
ashamed  of  myself  for  it  you  are  right  about  your  guess  about 
"  Fire-Glass-pictures  "  it  is  a  rather  larger  one  than  yours  in 
Dublin  and  has  12  slides.  I  will  provide  materials  for  "a 
Royal  salute  for  the  triumph  over  the  air  "  I  must  tell  you  I 
have  cut  out  and  dug  a  bed  in  this  ;:hape.  .  .  .  You  must 
understand  that  it  is  larger  than  this  and  so  also  the  other 
beds  that  I  "  Dutchly  "  drew  in  the  last  letter  I  am  in  Page 
3  in  the  Greek  delectus  it  is  not  Valpy's  but  a  Mr.  Priest's. 
I  intend  to  edge  my  bed  with  lattice  work  of  little  switches 
mind  there  is  plenty  of  room  between  it  and  your  garden. 

VOL.  I 



1841-1846.     Age  13-18. 

HORT  entered  Rugby  in  October  1841  as  a  member 
of  the  Rev.  Charles  Anstey's  house,  the  house  to  which 
Arthur  Stanley  had  belonged.  The  names  of  H.  J.  S. 
Smith,  W.  H.  Waddington,  and  J.  B.  Mayor  are 
among  the  entries  for  the  same  half-year.  G.  G.  Brad- 
ley's  school  career  had  just  come  to  an  end,  and  John 
Conington  was  the  most  distinguished  boy  in  the  Sixth 
Form.  It  appears  that  there  was  not  room  for  Hort 
the  term  after  his  leaving  Laleham,  and  that  fever  in 
the  town  of  Rugby  delayed  the  opening  of  the  second 
*  half '  of  the  year  ;  he  was  therefore  at  home  from 
January  to  October  1841,  for  the  last  two  months  of 
which  period  he  went  as  a  day-boy  to  Cheltenham 
College  together  with  his  brother.  At  Rugby  he  was 
placed  in  the  Upper  Division  of  the  Middle  Fifth,  his 
house-master's  own  form  ;  the  form  next  above  was 
taken  by  the  Rev.  G.  E.  L.  Cotton,  afterwards  suc 
cessively  Master  of  Marlborough  College  and  Bishop  of 
Calcutta  ;  next  came  the  Twenty  under  Mr.  Bonamy 
Price,  and  then  the  Sixth  Form.  Mr.  Anstey's  first 
report  speaks  of  Hort  as  very  promising  but  not  strong 
in  composition.  He  occupied  at  first  a  room  with 

AGE  13 


W.  J.  and  A.  H.  Bull  and  another  boy,  and  in  his 
second  term  moved  into  a  study  with  his  cousin 
Joscelyn  Coghill.  His  home  letters  of  this  time  have 
not  been  preserved,  with  the  exception  of  those  to  his 
brother,  which  were  doubtless  specially  treasured  by 
the  parents  after  Arthur's  untimely  death.  The  first 
of  the  following  series  is  dated  ten  days  after  the 
writer's  first  arrival  at  Rugby. 


Arturo  Hort  impudentessimo 

Chel.  Prop.  Colleg.  M. 

Castigari  bene  merenti 
Cujus  nomen  sine  horrore  nunquam  vocabo. 

RUGBY,  Lawrence  Sheriff's  Day  [October  20,  1841]. 

Dearest  Arthur — You  must  not  think  that  I  have  forgotten 
you,  because  I  have  not  written  to  you  before,  but  all  my  time 
here  is  split  into  so  many  shreds,  here  half  an  hour,  there 
another  half  hour,  that  I  cannot  sit  writing  long.  First,  to 
answer  your  questions.  As  to  the  snowdrops,  give  me  two, 
and  the  rest  of  you  two  apiece.  As  to  the  little  round  bed, 
enquire  the  price  of  the  small  spring  tulips,  which,  with  a  few 
more  winter  aconites  will,  I  think,  be  enough  for  it,  but  before 
you  buy  any  tulips  tell  me  the  price  of  them.  It  will  not  be 
time  for  two  or  three  weeks  to  plant  either  them  or  those 
which  you  have  got  already,  of  which  you  must  tell  me  the 
number.  For  the  large  bed,  I  think  it  would  be  as  well  to 
get  a  chrysanthemum  or  two,  if  they  are  cheap ;  if  not  it  will 
do  very  well  as  it  is.  I  think  you  had  better  take  in  the  clove 
carnation.  I  wish  you  would  enquire  at  Hodge's  or  any  of 
the  gardeners',  whether  it  will  be  better  to  cut  down  the 
verbenas,  and  if  so,  do  it,  but  I  never  heard  of  their  being 
cut  down  when  they  are  taken  in,  or  at  all  events,  when  they 
are  quite  young  plants  and  have  no  wood  Divide  the  remain 
ing  aconites  and  crocuses  equally  between  you  three.  I  wish 
you  would  buy  about  a  quarter  of  a  hundred  ranunculuses. 
Well  now  for  my  affairs.  I  like  Rugby  extremely,  better  even 


than  the  C.  P.  C.,1  for  it  is  not  so  monotonous.     Old  B 

is  something  like  Judd,  only  a  great  deal  taller.  Young  B — 
is  like  young  Bubb,  only  more  fat-faced.  Poles  is  the  most 
extraordinary  creature  I  ever  saw,  his  face  is  like  this.  .  .  .2 
His  nose  covers  his  mouth,  but  he  is  full  of  fun,  and  is  always 
making  puns.  One  of  the  boys  told  me  the  other  day  a  riddle, 
the  solution  of  which  I  must  leave  to  you.  "  Why  are  you 
not  at  all  a  donkey's  tail  ?  "  We  are  not  at  all  pedantic  as  you 
are  for  instead  of  your  fine  Latin  "  Adsum,"  we  have  our  good 
old  English  "  Here."  My  examination  Extras  (Mamma  will 
tell  you  what  they  are)  are  Classics,  520  lines  of  the  (Ed. 
Tyr.  of  Sophocles. 

Lines,  last  2  odes  of  ist  and  whole  of  2nd  Book  of  Horace. 

Divinity.    14,  15,  16,  and   17  chap,  of  Gospel  of  John  by 

Mod.  Lang.  German.   4  pages  of  Schiller. 

Mathemat.  3  books  of  Euclid. 

History.  The  account  of  the  2nd  Punic  War  in  Keightley's 

I  enclose  you  the  list  of  our  lessons ;  written  very  badty, 
but  I  am  hurried.  Tell  Lucy  that  I  put  in  my  own  candles, 
and  sweep  my  study  myself.  I  have  enclosed  to  you  in 
Gran's  letter  a  view  of  the  school,  for  your  scrap-book. 
Goodbye.  Give  my  love  to  every  one  not  forgetting  Miss 
Sharland  and  believe  me  your  ever  affectionate  brother, 


I  should  write  more,  if  I  had  time,  but  I  shall  soon  write 
again.  Over  the  door  of  the  chapel  is  written  ev^pdvOrjv  tirl 
rot?  tlprjKoo-iv  /xot  Ets  OIKOV  Kvpiov  7ropeTxro//,e$a.  I  leave  it 
to  you  to  translate  it. 


RUGBY,  November  ^rd,  1841. 

Dearest  Arthur — I  wish  you  would  write  if  you  have  time, 
if  not  dont.  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 

I  am  very  cruel  only  to  send  you  this  scrap  but  I  have  no 
time,  love  to  the  girls,  Miss  G.  and  all. 

1  i.e.  Cheltenham  Proprietary  College.  2  Drawing  inserted. 

AGE  13 




RUGBY,  November  ivth,  1841. 

My  dearest  Arthur — Most  sorry  am  I  to  hear  all  the  bad  l 
news  from  Farnley  Lodge,  especially  about  poor  Meg  :  you 
indeed  are  now  in  a  sad  condition  but  (here  goes  another 
quotation)  "Trero/xat  8  eATrwrtv,  OUT'  tvOdS  opwv,  OUT'  OTTIO-O)." 

Now  if  you  are  able  to  make  that  out,  you  will  be  able  to 
do  two  lines  of  one  of  Sophocles's  Choruses.  By  the  bye,  with 
regard  to  that  other  cwfrpdv&qv  I  was  cheerful  IT™  rots  at  those 
eiprjKoa-w  saying  pot  to  me,  or  as  our  translation  has  it,  "  I  was 
glad  when  they  said  unto  me,"  etc.  The  answer  to  the  riddle 
is  not  a  very  polite  one,  but  I  must  give  it :  "  because  you  are 
no  end  of  an  ass." 

I  wish  you  would  answer  me  the  questions  that  I  asked 
about  the  prices  of  roots,  etc.,  in  a  former  letter,  as  it  is  now 
full  time  to  plant  them.  We  have  now  hard  frosts  here,  but 
as  you  may  suppose,  no  ice  yet.  .  .  . — I  remain  your  most 
affectionate  brother  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 

H.  Anstey  has  a  little  Electrical  machine  which  he  made 
himself,  and  I  intend  to  make  one  like  it  in  the  Holidays.  It 
is  a  Cylinder  one  made  with  an  immense  bottle. 


RUGBY,  Satdy,  November  i$tht  1841. 

My  dearest  Brother — I  was  very  glad  to  get  a  letter  from 
you,  though  sorry  to  hear  such  a  bad  account  of  all  at  home, 
but  I  hope  the  next  account  will  be  better.  I  amuse  myself 
a  good  deal  with  young  Anstey's  Electrical  machine,  and  I 
hope  with  but  very  little  trouble  to  make  one  or  two,  when  I 
get  home.  I  enclose  you  some  wax  spun  on  paper  by  means 
of  it.  If  I  had  the  money,  I  would  buy  a  Galvanic  battery, 
for  they  are  only  25.  6d,  but  I  have  not,  but  I  hope  to  do  so 
at  some  future  time.  .  .  .  Your  translation  is  very  fair :  more 
freely  "  And  I  am  flying  on  the  wings  of  hope,  looking  neither 
close  to  me  nor  backwards."  It  is  an  expression  of  hope,  that 

1  Scarlet  fever  at  home. 


one  is  raised  on  the  air  by  it,  and  one  does  not  regard  either 
the  past  or  the  present,  but  only  looks  forward  to  the  future. 
About  the  praepostors  you  know  each  boy  has  his  particular 
place  in  the  form,  and  by  losing  two  places,  I  mean  that  the 
two  boys  below  him  are  put  above  him,  which  among  boys  of 
17  or  1 8  is  a  very  great  disgrace.  I  must  now  give  you 
some  account  of  the  way  of  doing  marks  in  our  form. 
There  are  35  boys  in  the  form  (in  one  of  the  forms  there 
are  58  ! !)  and  you  know  it  would  be  impossible  to  give 
them  all  a  piece  to  construe  in  the  same  lesson,  so  Mr. 
Anstey  calls  up  as  many  as  he  can  indiscriminately  :  the 
highest  mark  that  can  be  got  for  a  lesson  is  40,  and  those 
who  are  not  called  up  get  the  average  20.  Now  by  these 
marks  I  have  been  called  up  33  times  and  my  marks  are 
.  .  .  altogether  1158.  This  does  not  include  marks  for 
exercises,  or  *  vulguses  '  for  which  I  generally  get  much  less. 
The  highest  mark  for  copies  is  100,  but  the  marks  for  them 
are  not  given  out  yet.  I  do  not  think  I  have  anything  more 
to  say,  except  to  ask  you  not  to  forget  to  write  as  often  as  you 
can,  now  that  you  have  plenty  of  spare  time.  Give  my 
kindest  love  to  every  one  in  the  house,  and  believe  me  to  be, 
dearest  Arthur,  your  most  affectionate  brother, 


P.S. — I  should  have  plenty  to  tell  you,  if  I  knew  where  to 
begin,  therefore  I  wish  you  would  ask  me  some  questions. 


RUGBY,  Wednesday,  November  i*jth  [1841]. 
My  dearest  Arthur — I  got  your  letter  yesterday,  but  did 
not  write,  until  to-day's  afternoon's  post,  in  hopes  of  finding 
intelligence  from  Cheltenham,  but  found  none.  I  wish  you 
would  ask  Mamma  to  send  me  every  day  a  letter  on  a  telegraph 
Newspaper,  and  I  hope  to  have  better  news  to  hear.  I  have 
altogether  including  composition  (for  which  I  have  409) 
2657  marks  leaving  me  head  of  the  form,  where  I  now  am, 
safe  and  sound.  'Tommy,'  viz.  Dr.  Arnold,  told  me  and 
Smith  who  is  second  that  he  would  have  *  put  us  out,'  viz. 
promoted  us  to  the  5th  form,  but  it  is  so  near  the  end  of  the 

AGE  13  RUGBY  23 

half,  and  there  would  be  the  bother  of  the  double  examinations, 
but  if  I  pass  a  good  examination,  which  I  hope  to  do,  I  shall 
still  have  a  good  chance  of  being  put  out  at  the  end  of  the 
half.  I  have  taken  up  all  the  extras.  I  have  got  notes  on 
the  (Edipus  Tyrannus,  and  I  find  them  of  great  use  to  me. 
The  frost  has  been  very  hard  for  some  days,  and  I  suppose 
there  will  be  skating  to-morrow.  .  .  . 

MTT  r 


RUGBY,  November  22nd,  1841. 

My  dearest  Arthur — I  should  have  written  before,  but  I 
had  nothing  to  say,  however  I  do  not  like  to  delay  any  longer ; 
I  am  delighted  to  hear  that  Papa  is  so  much  better,  and  I 
hope  Mamma  is  so  too.  .  .  . 

I  have  bought  several  things  for  making  the  Electrical 
machine  :  a  bottle  for  the  cylinder,  bars  of  glass,  and  different 
drugs  required  for  making  it,  several  of  which  I  should  find 
difficult  and  dearer  to  get  at  Cheltenham.1  I  do  not  think  I 
have  anything  more  to  say,  but  to  give  my  best  love  and 
wishes  to  all,  and  believe  me  your  most  affectionate  brother, 


Write  soon,  and  tell  me  about  the  roots  and  bulbs. 


RUGBY,  Satiirday,  November  27^,  1841. 

My  dearest  Arthur — As  I  have  not  written  this  week,  I 
did  not  like  to  let  Saturday  night  pass  without  writing  you  a 
few  lines,  though  I  am  rather  pressed  for  time,  as  I  am  more 
backward  with  my  extras  than  I  could  wish  to  be :  however 
I  hope  to  know  them  all  in  time :  I  know  three  already ; 
Classics,  Lines,  and  History,  and  I  know  part  of  my  Divinity 
and  German,  but  I  have  not  looked  at  my  Mathematics. 
The  Examination  began  on  Wednesday,  and  I  like  it  very 
well ;  most  of  the  questions  have  been  very  easy :  I  write 

1  This  home-made  battery  is  still  extant,  and  was  the  delight  of  a 
second  generation  of  boys. 


down  in  a  book  all  the  questions  and  my  answers  to  them, 
as  I  thought  Papa  might  perhaps  like  to  see  them.  The 
Examination  for  Extras  will  begin,  some  say  on  Wednesday, 
some  on  Friday,  but  I  shall  be  prepared  for  Wednesday. 
Stills  are  now  the  'mania'  here,  and  a  great  many  of  the 
boys  have  them,  but  very  simple  ones  being  merely  a  retort 
and  receiver  mounted  on  a  stand,  with  a  spirit-lamp.  Tell 
Papa  that  I  have  taken  pains  to  follow  his  advice  as  to  writing 
the  answers  at  the  examination.  Your  snuff-box  story  I  have 
often  heard  before.  With  regard  to  the  roots,  I  told  you 
about  them  in  a  letter  about  6  weeks  ago,  and  if  you  can 
find  it,  all  well  and  good,  but  if  not,  never  mind  getting  any 
more,  as  I  do  not  remember  them.  .  .  . 

I  get  confused  with  your  verses  so  I  will  answer  these  of 
yours,  and  another  time  I  will  tell  you  at  once,  and  not  leave 
you  to  correct  them,  as  it  creates  a  great  deal  of  confusion. 
Give  my  best  love  to  all,  and  fervent  hopes  and  prayers  that 
all  the  invalids  may  be  restored  to  health  and  spirits,  and 
believe  me  your  affectionate  brother, 


I  wish  you  would  always  write  your  verses  on  a  long 
separate  piece  of  paper,  as  you  have  done  now,  with  the 
quantities  marked^  as  I  often  have  a  great  deal  of  trouble  in 
deciphering  them. 


RUGBY,  Sattirday  [November  1841  (?)]. 

My  dearest  Arthur — I  write  this  to  show  you  a  sympathetic 
ink  which  Joscelyn  and  I  made.  I  have  bought  a  couple  of 
pair  of  quoits,  which  are  a  very  good  amusement.  Joscelyn 
is  going  to  set  up  his  electrotype.  Give  my  love  to  all  and 
believe  me  your  affectionate  brother, 


If  you  want  any  Prussian  Blue,  I  will  send  you  some  I 
made  myself. 

Dissolve  the  enclosed  in  a  tablespoonful  of  water,  dip  a 
clean  paint  brush  in  the  solution  and  pass  it  over  the  paper, 
when  the  writing  will  appear. 

AGE   13 


The  above  letters  and  the  next  series  are  given 
almost  entire,  as  they  are  the  only  ones  which  remain 
to  represent  the  interesting  period  from  1841  to  1845, 
when  the  writer  was  thirteen  to  seventeen  years  old  ;  the 
next  glimpse  we  get  of  him  in  his  own  letters  after 
February  1842  is  as  a  Sixth  Form  boy.  In  December 
1841,  near  the  end  of  Fenton's  first  half-year  at 
Rugby,  his  whole  family  were  down  with  scarlet  fever, 
and  his  little  sister,  Louisa  Josephine,  the  *  Babsy '  of 
the  letters,  died  of  it 


,1  January  $rd,  1842. 

My  dearest  Arthur  —  I  cannot  open  better  than  by  wishing 
all  our  dear  ones  many  happy  new  years.  Alas  !  there  is 
one  less  than  there  was  last  New  Year's  Day.  How  mindful 
should  we  be  that  in  the  midst  of  life,  we  are  in  death.  But 
I  will  no  longer  yield  to  these  painful  though  profitable  reflec 
tions.  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  you  are  all  so  much 
better,  and  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  answer  my  letter.  I 
am  very  happy  here,  though  still  I  wish  to  be  again  among 
you  all.  We  danced  in  the  New  Year  on  Friday  night.  .  .  . 
Bath  has  not  such  nice  walks  as  Cheltenham.  You  may  tell 
Miss  Sharland  that  my  opinion  of  the  far-famed  Milsom  St. 
is  that  it  is  a  common  short  street,  with  a  few  plate-glass 
windows,  and  that  this  is  the  handsomest  and  most  fashion 
able  city  in  England  !  !  Piccadilly  is  the  model  of  the  real 
Piccadilly  10,000  times  '  Piccaninified.'  The  Abbey  Church 
and  the  Royal  Crescent,  and  perhaps  Pulteney  St.  are  the 
only  things  worth  wasting  one's  stare  on  in  the  whole  place. 
I  must  not  grumble  at  the  continual  sloppiness  of  the  streets, 
for  it  is  certainly  a  fact  that  there  can  be  no  bath  without 
water.  It  is  certainly,  Caernarvon  excepted,  the  least  (instead 
of,  as  it  is  said,  the  most)  elegant  town  I  ever  saw,  and  its 

1  He  was  at  Bath  for  the  Christmas  holidays,  to  be  out  of  the  way  of 


hills  are  worse  than  Boulogne  a  great  deal.  I  am  now  making 
my  Electrical  Machine,  and  I  have  nearly  finished  it,  but  you 
may  tell  Papa  that  I  have  not  forgotten  my  lessons.  Pray 
give  mine  and  Miss  Curtis's  kindest  love  to  all  of  you  in 
Cheltenham,  and  elsewhere,  and  accept  the  same  from  your 
most  affectionate  brother,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 

P.S. — Here  is  a  conundrum  for  you  of  my  own  making. 
"  Why  is  a  man  who  is  conquered  like  an  article  of  ladies' 


BATH,  February  ^rd,  1842. 

My  dearest  Arthur — I  received  your  letter  on  Sunday. 
Before  I  say  anything  more,  I  must  wish  Margaret  many 
happy  returns  of  the  2nd.  I  finished  my  electrical  machine 
yesterday,  but  as  I  was  cleaning  it,  some  of  the  cement  broke : 
to-morrow,  however,  I  shall  probably  set  it  to  rights.  ...  I  went 
the  other  day  to  see  Wombwell's  Menagerie.  There  is  a  very 
clever  Elephant.  When  his  Keeper  said  to  him,  "  Supposing 
you  and  I  were  travelling  together  in  a  foreign  country,  and  I 
were  to  be  imprisoned  in  a  castle,  what  would  you  do  ?  "  the 
elephant  put  up  his  trunk  and  unbarred  the  top  door  of  his 
cage.  He  then  said,  "Supposing  you  wanted  to  pay  your 
addresses  to  a  young  lady,  what  would  you  do  ?  "  the  elephant 
took  off  the  man's  hat.  He  then  begged  one  of  the  company 
to  lend  him  a  piece  of  silver  money,  the  keeper  then  put  it 
on  the  top  bar,  and  told  the  elephant  to  give  it  to  him,  he  did 
so,  he  told  him  to  lay  it  on  the  ground,  he  did  so,  he  told 
him  to  take  it  up  again,  and  give  it  to  the  owner,  he  did  so, 
he  told  him  to  thank  the  gentleman,  who  was  so  kind  as  to 
lend  it  to  him,  he  gave  a  short  grunt.  He  then  told  him  to 
show  what  a  nice  foot  he  had  for  a  silk  stocking ;  he  lifted  up 
his  great  paw,  he  told  him  to  kneel  down  and  thank  the  com 
pany  for  looking  at  him,  he  did  so  and  gave  a  grunt.  This 
elephant,  whenever  he  wants  more  food,  or  to  have  his  cage 
cleaned  out,  rings  a  bell.  The  keeper  also  goes  in  among  two 
lions,  a  black  tiger  or  jaguar,  and  six  or  seven  leopards,  plays 
with  them,  kisses  them,  makes  them  all  jump  through  a  hoop, 
which  he  holds  up  in  the  air,  puts  his  head  into  the  Lion's 

AGE  13  RUGBY  27 

mouth,  and  makes  the  leopards  jump  up  on  high  shelves. 
There  are  also,  a  Rhinoceros,  Arni  Bull,  a  Giraffe,  Hyaenas, 
laughing  Hysenas,  Racoons,  Ichneumons,  Coatimondis,  Owlets, 
Marmosettes,  Monkeys,  Lions,  Tigers,  panthers,  Leopards, 
Wolves,  bears,  Pelicans,  Emus,  Parrots,  Macaws,  Love  Birds, 
Boa  Constrictors,  an  Armadillo,  and  many  other  animals 
which  I  do  not  now  remember.  Aunt  has  given  me  The 
Boy's  Own  Book,  which  contains  a  great  many  games,  Leger 
demain,  Puzzles,  Riddles,  Chemistry,  etc.  I  will  now  give 
you  some  Riddles.  .  .  . 

If  you  cannot  guess  them,  ask  Mamma  to  try.  Give  my 
kindest  love  to  all  at  Farnley  Lodge,  and  believe  me  your 
most  affectionate  brother,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 

The  two  brothers  saw  little  more  of  each  other.  In 
March  1842  Arthur  was  taken  very  ill  with  measles, 
and  Fenton  was  fetched  home  from  Rugby ;  he  also 
fell  a  victim,  but  recovered  in  due  course.  Arthur  was 
also  thought  to  be  recovering,  and  the  two  boys  had  a 
few  last  happy  days  together,  till  Fenton's  quarantine 
was  over  and  he  could  go  back  to  school.  Three 
weeks  after  his  return  to  Rugby  he  was  recalled 
for  his  brother's  funeral;  on  25th  May  he  left  home 
again  for  school,  desolated  with  a  grief  which,  young  as 
he  was,  had  made  a  permanent  mark  on  him. 

This  loss  (at  the  age  of  ten)  of  a  child  of  such  rare 
promise  and  such  beauty  of  character  made,  in  fact,  a 
crisis  in  the  family  history  ;  the  mother's  whole  sub 
sequent  life  was  overshadowed  by  it,  and  in  the  brother's 
memory  it  remained  always  a  subject  almost  too  sacred 
to  be  mentioned.  At  first  he  was  completely  stunned, 
and  it  was  long  before  his  naturally  sunny  disposition 
recovered  its  brightness.  The  loss  of  almost  all  record 
of  this  time  is  the  more  to  be  regretted  since  in  home 
letters  the  effects  on  mind  and  character  of  this  first 
great  sorrow  must  certainly  have  appeared. 


On  1 2th  June  of  this  same  year  Dr.  Arnold  died. 
The  news  of  this  catastrophe  was  another  staggering 
blow  to  the  sensitive  lad  ;  he  never  forgot  the  feeling  as 
of  an  altered  world  with  which  the  wholly  unexpected 
news  overwhelmed  him  during  a  holiday  at  the  sea 
side  ;  the  anniversary  is  marked  in  red  ink  in  his  diary 
of  five  years'  later  date.  He  can  never  have  seen  much 
of  '  the  Doctor/  but  his  personality  profoundly  impressed 
him  from  the  first ;  he  used  to  recall  long  after  how  he 
longed  as  a  small  boy  for  the  *  fearful  joy '  of  being 
noticed  or  spoken  to  by  Arnold ;  and  letters  still 
extant  from  Arnold  to  Mr.  Fenton  Hort  show  the 
interest  which  he  took  in  his  progress  even  in  his  first 

He  spent  some  time  in  the  Twenty,  in  which  boys 
were  obliged  to  stay  till  they  were  of  age  to  be  pro 
moted  into  the  Sixth.  Of  Mr.  Bonamy  Price's  teaching 
my  father  always  spoke  with  enthusiasm  ;  he  regarded 
him  as  the  man  who,  at  school  at  all  events,  had  taught 
him  more  than  any  one  else  :  "  To  him,"  he  said  in  1871, 
"  I  owe  all  scholarship  and  New  Testament  criticism." 
Mr.  Bonamy  Price  in  his  turn,  after  an  interval  of  more 
than  forty  years,  remembered  him  as  the  brightest 
pupil  whom  he  had  ever  had,  and  delighted  to  recall 
the  boy's  keen  eyes,  the  thoroughness  of  all  his  work, 
and  his  eagerness  in  the  pursuit  of  knowledge.  A 
school  contemporary  remembers  how  he  sat  at  the 
end  of  a  row,  and  '  snapped  up '  all  the  questions  as 
they  came  round.  He  is  said  to  have  astonished  his 
schoolfellows  by  the  regularity  with  which  he  obtained 
four  '  First  Classes '  in  different  subjects.  His  letters  to 
his  father  show  the  variety  of  his  intellectual  interests  ; 
he  seems  to  have  never  pursued  one  subject  of  the 
school  course  to  the  exclusion  of  others,  and  in  his 



private  reading  he  was  omnivorous.  The  passion  for 
knowledge,  which  was  noted  in  the  man,  had  taken 
hold  of  the  boy.  At  this  age  also  had  begun  the 
close  observation  of  outward  circumstances  which 
was  to  the  end  so  characteristic  of  him.  The  diaries 
which  recommence  in  1845,  after  a  break  of  two  and 
a  half  years,  caused  perhaps  by  his  brother's  death, 
record  the  weather  for  every  day,  and  the  texts  of  all 
sermons,  besides  details  of  school  debates,  prizes,  and 
the  like.  This  record  of  weather  and  texts  he  never  gave 
up  ;  in  1 846  he  began  to  note  plants  observed  in  the 
course  of  walks,  and  in  many  later  diaries  botanical 
notes  from  the  principal  part  of  the  entries. 

Having  risen  to  a  high  position  in  the  school  when 
he  was  young  for  his  place,  and  still  younger,  it  is  said, 
in  appearance,  he  had  considerable  difficulty  in  main 
taining  his  authority  in  his  house  ;  there  was  doubtless 
a  rather  rough  element  in  it,  and  his  authority  was 
not  supported  by  athletic  distinction,  a  deficiency  which 
he  always  regretted.  In  his  early  struggles,  when  he 
first  entered  the  Sixth  Form  in  1844,  ne  received  warm 
encouragement  from  the  new  headmaster,  Dr.  Tait, 
who,  besides  recognising  his  ability  and  industry,  spoke 
of  him  at  the  age  of  sixteen  as  having  "a  thought- 
fulness  of  character  from  which  the  best  fruit  may 
by  God's  blessing  be  expected  "  ;  and  a  year  later  he 
predicts  that  "  he  will  turn  out  a  thoughtful  and  very 
valuable  man." 

Though  never  distinguished  in  athletics,  he  played 
football  with  the  same  vigour  with  which  he  attacked 
his  work,  and  he  not  only  played  but  watched  the 
school  games  with  close  interest.  He  took  part  in 
drawing  up  a  code  of  rules  for  the  famous  game,  the 
description  of  whose  early  stages  in  Tom  Brown 


amazes  the  modern  *  Rugby '  football  player  ;  and  he 
was  very  proud  of  his  '  cap/  his  one  athletic  decoration. 
In  school  politics  he  took  a  courageous  and  independent 
line.  On  one  occasion  he,  along  with  the  head  of  the 
school  and  others,  was  censured  by  a  majority  of  Sixth 
Form  *  levee/  on  what  grounds  does  not  appear,  but  he 
was  proud  of  the  vote,  as  the  contest  was  between 
"  public  and  constitutional  spirit  and  private  feeling  and 
love  of  popularity."  The  strife  seems  to  have  been 
appeased  by  Dr.  Tait's  intervention. 

The  Rev.  North  Finder,  one  of  Hort's  few  surviv 
ing  Rugby  contemporaries,  has  kindly  contributed  the 
following  recollections  of  school-days  : — 

I  could  have  wished  that  I  had  more  reminiscences  to 
supply  of  Hort's  school-days  at  Rugby;  but,  owing  to  my 
having  been  in  another  House,  my  intimacy  with  him  was  com 
paratively  slight,  and  confined  principally  to  being  associated 
with  him  in  the  two  Upper  Forms  of  the  school. 

In  his  case  certainly  the  '  boy  was  father  of  the  man.' 
Across  the  distance  of  nearly  half  a  century  I  can  call  to  mind 
the  somewhat  awkward  figure  and  resolute  earnest  face  with 
the  blue  eyes,  bushy  eyebrows,  and  black  straight  hair,  as 
he  might  be  seen  rushing  with  rapid  impetuous  steps  across 
the  close  just  in  time  to  anticipate  the  shutting  of  the  Big-School 

He  was  nearly  always  at  the  top  of  whatever  Form  he 
happened  to  be  in.  In  the  Twenty  Bonamy  Price  would  usually 
refer  to  Hort  for  what  no  one  else  could  answer.  His  width 
and  thoroughness  of  knowledge,  far  beyond  the  usual  level  of 
even  clever  boys,  his  indefatigable  industry,  his  quickness  and 
precision  of  mind — not  at  the  same  time  without  a  certain 
awkwardness  of  expression  —  foreshadowed  in  those  early 
years  the  powers,  which  later  he  was  to  display  in  a  larger 
field.  He  was  not  a  boy  of  many  friends,  but  those  he  had 
felt  a  deep  and  admiring  attachment  toward  him.  There  was 
a  natural  heartiness  and  sincerity,  a  rugged  simplicity  and 
honesty,  that  could  not  fail  to  attract  those  who  were  brought 

AGE  17  RUGBY  31 

into  close  relations  with  him.  Hort  did  not  shake  your  hand  ; 
he  wrung  it,  throwing  into  his  grasp  all  the  warmth  of  an 
affectionate  heart.  He  was  no  great  hand  at  games,  less 
thought  of  then  than  now.  Yet  I  seem  to  remember  his  wild 
rushes  at  Football  (especially  in  the  Sixth  Match  v.  the  School), 
plunging  into  the  thick  of  the  struggle,  fearless  of  danger,  eager 
for  achievement,  and  bent  on  doing  his  best  for  the  honour 
of  the  Praepostors'  side.  It  was  the  germ  of  the  same  pluck 
and  determination  manifesting  itself  in  a  Rugby  *  scrimmage ' 
which  succeeded  later  in  achieving  some  of  the  most  difficult 
ascents  in  the  Alps.  We  took  our  degrees  in  the  same  year 
(1850) — he  at  Trinity  Cambridge,  and  myself  at  Trinity 
Oxford;  and  for  many  years  we  never  met.  Examining  at 
Harrow  long  afterwards  brought  us  once  more  together  in 
pleasant  intercourse,  which  made  me  feel  how  much  of  the 
freshness,  simplicity,  and  warm-heartedness  of  the  boy  remained 
side  by  side  with  all  the  learning  and  experience  of  the  man. 

The  following  letters  give  evidence  of  Hort's  various 
efforts  for  the  good  of  his  house.  That  of  Easter  Day 
1 846,  marked  '  Dies  Mirabilis '  in  the  diary  of  this 
year,  reveals  the  earnest  spiritual  life  with  which 
incessant  intellectual  activity  seems  at  no  period  to 
have  interfered.  His  own  simplicity  and  sincerity  shine 
through  phrases  which  are  to  some  extent  those  of  the 
religious  school  in  whose  traditions  he  was  brought  up, 
and  in  whose  language  it  was  then  natural  for  him  to 
express  his  deepest  thoughts. 


RUGBY,  September  *jth,  1845. 

My  dearest  Papa — I  fear  this  letter  must  be  very  one-sided, 
for  you  have  left  me  nothing  to  answer  or  remark  on  of  home 
or  Cheltenham  news.  .  .  .  Our  football  rules  are  to  be  out 
this  week,  and  if  the  book  is  as  small  as  I  hear,  I  will  send 
you  a  copy  by  post.  I  believe  we  are  the  only  school  who 
make  it  a  scientific  game  with  an  intricate  code  of  laws. 


We  have  filled  up  the  two  vacancies  in  the  editorship  of  the 
Miscellany.  Shirley  is  all  that  could  be  wished  ;  Byrne  I  am  not 
so  satisfied  with,  as  he  is  a  sad  Young  Englander,  .  .  .  but  we 
must  hope  for  the  best.  Our  debating  Society  goes  on  most 
flourishingly ;  we  admitted  and  blackballed  yesterday  week  a 
very  large  number  of  new  applicants,  and  yesterday  we  passed 
a  rule  making  a  small  half-yearly  and  also  entrance  subscrip 
tion  to  defray  the  expense  of  printing  the  Minutes  half-yearly. 
Yesterday  we  abolished  Botany  Bay,  Port  Jackson,  Tasmania, 
Norfolk  Island  et  hoc  genus  omne ;  and  next  Saturday  we  de 
cide  as  to  O.  Cromwell's  right  to  a  'statty'  in  Westminster 
Abbey  !  How  grand  we  are  !  Deny  it,  who  can  !  As  you  may 
perhaps  like  to  hear  what  books  we  have  got  for  our  Library,  I 
may  as  well  tell  you.  (Novels  and  Tales)  DTsraeli's  Sybil, 
Marryatt's  Midshipman  Easy,  Pickwick,  Hawkston,  Fougie's 
Seasons.  (Travels,  etc.)  Crescent  and  Cross,  Wolffs  Bokhara, 
Pridden's  Australia.  (History,  etc.)  Carlyle's  History  of  the 
French  Revolution,  Brougham's  Statesmen  of  the  time  of  George 
III.,  vol.  iii. ;  Brougham's  Lives  of  Men  of  Science  and  Letters 
of  the  time  of  George  III.,  vol.  i.  (Poetry)  Spenser's  Poems, 
Taylor's  Plays,  besides  Periodicals ;  so  that  we  have  a  pretty 
good  set  for  our  money.  Our  Choir  in  Chapel  has  been  removed 
from  the  Gallery  to  the  Middle  of  the  Body,  and  increased  to 
sixteen,  eight  on  each  side,  so  that  we  have  in  effect  the  old 
system  of  '  Versicles '  and  '  Responses,'  and  the  effect  is  much 


RUGBY,  September  2.\st,  1845. 

I  am  writing  in  some  of  the  heaviest  rain  I  ever  saw,  with 
a  great  stream  pouring  in  front  of  my  window  from  an  over 
flowing  water-pipe,  and  some  of  the  studies  presenting  '  Baths 
for  the  Poor  (Occupants) '  gratis,  though  fortunately  I  am  not 
favored  with  that  honour.  ...  I  have  just  finished  a  most 
interesting  volume  of  Brougham's  Lives  of  Men  of  Letters  and 
Science  in  the  time  of  George  III.,  with  lives  of  Voltaire,  Rous 
seau,  Hume,  Robertson ;  and  2ndly,  Black,  Cavendish,  Sir 
H.  Davy,  Watt  (steam-engine  man),  Priestley,  and  Simson, 
the  mathematician.  As  might  be  expected,  he  is  rather  too 

AGE   17 



partial  to  Voltaire  and  Hume,  but  I  have  seldom  read  so 
delightful  a  biography,  or  one  that  gave  so  favorable  an  im 
pression  of  both  author  and  subject,  as  that  of  Dr.  Robertson. 
The  accounts  too  of  the  discoveries  by  the  Chemists,  such  as 
that  of  the  various  gases  and  the  composition  of  the  Alkalies, 
are  very  interesting.  We  have  had  two  afternoons  of  the 
Sixth  Match,  Monday  and  yesterday,  but  we  have  maintained 
the  fight  so  gloriously  that  neither  side  have  gained  any  ad 
vantage,  and  another  ineffectual  day  will  make  it  a  drawn 
game,  whereas  last  year  we  were  beaten  in  two  days.  The 
Red  Cross  Knight  has  fared  well  from  the  perilous  encounters, 
but  is  rather  lame  from  a  rub  by  his  own  greaves.  A  propos 
to  Red  Cross  Knights,  I  have  plunged  into  the  Faery  Queene, 
but  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  rather  wading  work,  for  Clarence 
found  a  great  difference  between  drinking,  and  being  drowned 

Ensey,  tho'  it  was  the  same  liquor  in  each  case. 
RUGBY,  February  22nd,  1846. 
I  see  by  the  Journal  that  even  poor  Cheltenham  was 
ed  with  all  the   horrors  of  a  Protection   Meeting,  or 
demonstration  in  favor  of  the  Marquis  of  Worcester.     What 
a  noble  sight  it  must  have  been  the  other  day  at  the  Dorset 
shire  Hustings  !     In  consequence  of  this  question  I  have  been 
more  of  a  politician  this  last  fortnight  than  I  have  ever  been 
here  before,  having  read  the  chief  speeches  in  almost  every 
Debate.    We  have  had  the  question  discussed  in  our  Debating 
Society ;  it  was  adjourned  yesterday  week,  after  three  or  four 
(for  us)  long  speeches,  to  yesterday,  when,  in  a  house  of  about 
thirty-five,  with,  I  think,  only  five  on  the  Whig  benches,  a 
*  glorious    majority    of  one '    was    obtained    for    protection ; 
several  who  had  intended  a  week  ago  to  speak  for  protection 
having  been  brought  to  the  other  side  by  Sir  Robert's  power 
ful  speech  on  Monday.     It  was  very  amusing  to  see  how  I 
was  sarcasticated  upon  by  both  sides,  because  I  told  them  that 
neither  they  nor  I  were  capable,  from  want  of  experience  and 
study  of  the  questions,  to  form  an  individual  opinion  on  the 
expediency  and  practical  working  of  a  commercial  measure. 
VOL.  I  D 



RUGBY,  Easter  Sunday,  April  \,  1846. 

My  dearest  Father  and  Mother — This  is,  I  believe,  the 
first  time  that  I  have  ever  addressed  either  both  of  you 
together  at  all  or  each  of  you  separately  by  these  names ; 
but  the  occasion  of  my  present  letter  is  sufficient  explanation 
of  my  using  these  expressions,  and  not  writing  to  either  of  you 
exclusively.  The  time  draws  near  when,  if  I  live  so  long,  I 
am  to  quit  school  for  ever,  and  thus  the  second  period  of  my 
existence  will  soon  be  over ;  and  so  my  mind  naturally  reverts 
more  strongly  to  what  has  never  been  altogether  absent  from 
my  thoughts  for  full  six  years,  and  what  both  of  you  have 
frequently  reminded  me  of, — I  mean  the  choice  of  a  profession 
for  life.  I  need  scarcely  say,  I  have  not  thought  on  the  sub 
ject  without  much  prayer,  especially  lately ;  and  my  present 
object  is  to  tell  you  my  decision.  I  should  mention  that  on 
Friday  last  I  opened  a  sealed  paper  written  by  me  at  Tenby 
five  years  ago,  containing  reasons  for  the  choice  I  then  made, 
not  however  definitively,  and  I  have  ever  since  considered  it 
as  not  the  less  an  open  question.  My  decision  at  that  time 
was  the  same  as  now,  and  my  reasons  are  substantially  the 
same,  though  my  opinions  are  in  some  respects  modified; 
and  then  I  balanced  reason  against  reason,  argument  against 
argument ;  now,  while  I  allow  argument  its  proper  place,  I 
trust  and  believe  myself  moved  by  an  influence  not  my  own. 
You  will  at  once  perceive  that  my  choice  is  the  Church.  You 
will  not,  I  am  persuaded,  charge  me  with  any  want  of  love  or 
deference  to  you  because  I  thus  definitively  make  my  choice 
without  consulting  you.  You  have  shown  your  kindness  and 
delicate  forbearance  (will  you  allow  me  to  add,  good  sense  ?) 
in  leaving  me  to  follow  my  judgment  unbiassed,  while  at  the 
same  time  there  has  been  no  need  for  my  returning  your  con 
fidence  by  asking  your  opinions,  for  I  have  long  seen,  and 
given  due  weight  to,  what  you  thought  on  so  important  a  sub 
ject  ;  and  while  I  felt  that  you  would  not  oppose  my  wish  if  I 
seemed  bent  on  any  other  calling,  I  could  not  but  pay  atten 
tion  to  what  I  knew  to  be  the  desire  of  your  hearts,  to  see  me 
in  the  ministry,  if  a  faithful  servant  of  the  Lord.  Yet  I 

AGE   17 



would  not  have  you  suppose  that  I  am  influenced  merely  by 
your  known  wishes ;  such,  I  know,  would  not  be  your  desire. 

The  only  other  profession  that  would  in  the  least  degree 
suit  me  is  the  Law,  and  my  distaste  for  it  has  been  growing 
stronger  every  year,  even  when  there  was  no  corresponding 
increase  of  tendency  towards  the  Church.  I  feel  myself 
altogether  unfit  to  be  a  lawyer ;  I  speak  now  of  secular 
mental  capabilities.  But  do  not  think  that  I  choose  the 
Church  merely  as  the  only  practicable  alternative ;  far  other 
wise.  I  cannot  but  see  that  the  Church  wants  laborers 
more  and  more  every  year.  Again,  there  is  another  reason 
connected  with  the  last.  This  paper  I  have  mentioned  was 
written  when  our  dear  Arthur  was  alive.  He,  loving  his 
Saviour  as  sincerely  as  he  was  warm  in  his  affection  to  us, 
had  already,  if  I  mistake  not,  devoted  himself  in  promise  to 
His  service.  The  same  merciful  Saviour  thought  fit  to  take 
him  to  Himself  before  he  could  fulfil  his  resolution,  and  I 
cannot  but  feel  his  removal  an  additional  call  on  me  to  fill 
the  place  he  had  marked  out  for  himself.  O  that  I  had  but 
his  fervency  of  love  to  Him  who  has  spared  me  ! 

I  have  hitherto  studiously  confined  myself  to  considerations 
and  arguments.  But  if  these  were  my  only  inducements  I  could 
not  think  myself  justified  in  entering  on  so  awful  a  responsi 
bility ;  how,  then,  could  I  answer  the  question,  "  Do  you 
trust  that  you  are  inwardly  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost  to  take 
upon  you  this  office  and  ministration  ?  "  Here,  then  deliber 
ately,  yet  with  reverence  I  say,  that  I  trust  and  believe  that  I 
am  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost.  Nothing  less  should  satisfy 
me.  I  believe  that  the  strong  and  permanent  inclination 
that  I  feel  is  of  God.  I  know  how  miserably  and  imperfectly 
I  serve  Him.  I  fall  into  sin,  more  especially  into  coldness, 
indifference,  and  forgetfulness  of  Him  through  the  day,  yet  in 
the  midst  of  this  repeatedly  it  seems  as  if  He  clutched  hard  at 
me,  and  I  would  not  come ;  and  I  cannot  believe  but  that  He 
is  thus  drawing  me  perseveringly  towards  His  service. 

I  had  begun  to  write  on  Friday,  when  I  was  most  annoyingly 
interrupted,  having  intended  to  ask  your  prayers  to-day  more 
especially,  but  your,  I  mean  Mamma's,  letter  assures  me  of  what 
I  never  indeed  could  have  doubted,  and  I  am  not  sorry  now 


that  I  was  thus  compelled  to  put  off  writing  till  to-day.  To 
day  I  have  made  my  final  resolution,  and  entreated  God  at 
His  table  to  ratify  it,  and  ever  aid  me  to  perform  it ;  and  I 
cannot  but  think  I  have  had  some  earnest  of  gracious  assist 
ance.  Till  last  night  I  never  knew  what  depression  was.  I 
had  no  illness ;  one  or  two  things  had  happened  to  grieve  me, 
but  still  they  were  comparatively  slight ;  but  I  never  felt  so 
thoroughly  downcast  about  myself  and  all  the  world,  or  so 
bitter  and  serious  a  struggle  within  me.  It  tore  me  through 
and  through,  yet  it  was  a  great  mercy  and  a  special  answer  to 
prayer ;  for  having  previously  felt  my  own  indifference  and 
want  of  real  sense  of  danger,  I  had  entreated  to  be  bruised 
and  brought  low  to  feel  the  burthen,  that  I  might  appreciate 
what  deliverance  might  be,  and  it  was  granted ;  consequently 
this  morning  I  felt  such  as  I  had  never  felt  before  at  the 
whole  service  and  communion.  I  never  till  then  had  an 
adequate  notion  of  the  power  and  beauty  of  our  Liturgy,  and, 
on  the  other  hand,  of  its  inferiority  to  the  Word  of  God.  I 
gained  some  faint  idea  of  what  the  Bible  was ;  I  felt  the 
glorious  depth  of  the  declaration,  "  Now  is  Christ  risen  from 
the  dead,  and  become  the  first-fruits  of  them  that  slept,"  a 
passage  which  I  had  merely  understood  before.  You  will 
wonder,  yet  not  more  than  I  wonder  myself,  how  I  have  been 
able  thus  to  put  on  paper  my  inmost  thoughts.  The  only 
explanation  I  can  give  myself  and  you  is  that  I  could  but 
record  with  gratitude  what  appears  to  me  so  signal  and 
gracious  a  token  of  encouragement  in  my  resolution  of  to 
day.  O  that  I  be  not  deluding  myself!  One  thing  I  can 
sincerely  say :  I  wish  to  be  the  minister  of  the  Lord ;  but  it 
makes  me  tremble  to  read  a  verse  of  St.  Paul  and  St.  Peter 
and  then  look  at  myself. 

I  have  now  given  you  my  reasons,  as  far  as  I  can  dis 
tinguish  them,  for  everything  would  urge  me  on  except  the 
fear  of  unfitness.  The  fear  itself  is  no  harm,  but  quite  the 
contrary  \  O  that  the  occasion  of  it  may  be  removed.  It 
only  remains  for  me  to  beg  your  more  particular  and  earnest 
prayers,  for  assuredly  I  shall  need  them  more  .  .  .  pray 
especially  for  me  that  I  may  be  given  the  spirit  of  prayer. 
Indifference  is  the  form  that  the  enemy's  opposition  generally 

AGE  17 



takes  rather  than  direct  temptation ;  pray  that  I  may  be 
enabled  to  call  down  unceasingly  special  aid.  I  am  afraid 
to  be  an  hour  without  prayer,  and  yet  how  hardly  do  I  find 
it !  May  this  day  be  the  first  of  harvest  to  me,  of  my  rising 
from  a  sleep  truly  called  death,  even  as  on  this  day  Christ  was 
gathered  in  as  the  first-fruits,  rising  from  the  actual  death ! 

This  letter  is  sadly  incoherent  and  confused.  My  only 
excuse  is  that  I  have  written  it  without  previous  arrangement ; 
I  have  said  whatever  rose  to  my  mind.  Perhaps  you  will 
like  it  the  better  for  this.  With  love  to  the  dear  girls  .  .  . 
I  remain,  ever  your  affectionate  son, 




RUGBY,  April  igth,  1846. 
I  really  do  not  know  how  to  answer  Mamma's  and  your 

letters  of  Monday.  I  can  only  say  that  I  thank  you  both  very 
deeply  and  earnestly  for  them,  and  that  for  their  own  sakes  as 
well  as  for  the  assurances  of  what  scarcely  needed  assurance. 
Yet  the  more  I  read  them,  the  more  must  I  entreat  you  to 
pray — and  pray  that  I  may  myself  worthily  pray — that  you  may 
not  have  taken  too  favourable  a  view. 

.  .  .  Rugby  has  been  honored  to-day  with  the  presence  of 
three  head-masters  of  great  schools  :  ist,  Dr.  Tait  of  our  own ; 
2nd,  Charles  Vaughan  of  Harrow;  and  3rd,  Conybeare  (a 
Rugbeian)  of  the  Liverpool  Collegiate  Institution.  Arthur 
Stanley  (Arnold's  biographer)  is  also  here,  so  that  we  have 
quite  a  constellation.  ...  It  is  not  often  that  I  look  at  our 
newspapers,  but  whenever  I  do  I  am  disgusted  with  them  : 
always  some  attack,  either  on  the  Established  Church,  or  the 
Coercion  Bill,  or  the  thanksgivings  for  the  Indian  victories ; 
this  last  is  a  very  fruitful  theme  for  the  declamations  of  these 
sentimentalists  on  Sir  R.  Inglis'  '  gunpowder  Christianity,'  as 
they  call  it,  or  the  idea  of  thanking  'a  God  of  peace  for 
successful  slaughter.'  I  cannot  help  thinking  it  a  very  fearful 
sign  of  these  latter  days,  that  godlessness  has  taken  such  a 
strange  form  ;  it  began  with  persecution  open  and  undisguised, 
then  came  Popery,  then  (to  omit  minor  forms)  in  the  last 
century  the  philosophy  of 'reason,' not  one  perishing  in  the 


meantime,  but  each  springing  up  by  the  side  of  the  other. 
But  now  such  is  the  spirit  of  the  age,  it  is  driven  to  take  a  new 
shape,  the  shape  of  Christianity  and  religion  itself.  For  I 
cannot  regard  in  any  better  light  this  widely-spread  system  of 
assuming  the  name  of  the  Gospel  to  wrong  principles.  But  I 
am  running  on  about  what  I  know  little  about. 


RUGBY,  May  yd,  1846. 

It  appears  by  your  letter  that  my  gentle  insinivations  were 
not  altogether  without  foundation,  and  that  Mamma's  cunning 
question  about  which  tour  I  should  prefer,  just  as  if  she  was 
setting  me  a  subject  for  a  Latin  essay,  Quidnam  iter  prcestantius 
habendum  sit>  etc.  etc.,  was,  as  I  suspected,  more  practical  than 
she  was  willing  to  allow.  You  shout  all  the  way  from  Chelten 
ham  to  Rugby,  to  know  'my  own  views — my  own  ideas.' 
Poor  I  haven't  got  any  ideas ;  I  am  not  like  a  flint  or  steel  to 
strike  out  new  sparks,  but  the  black  old  burnt  bit  of  tinder 
that  enlarges  and  spreads  the  sparks  of  others :  there's  what 
you  may  call  (you  needn't  if  you  don't  choose)  a  fine  simile. 
But  the  fact  is  that  I  should  like  any  so  well,  that  I  don't 
know  which  I  should  like  best. 

So  like  two  feasts,  whereat  there's  nought  to  pay, 
(pity  that  isn't  the  case  with  us), 

Fall  unpropitious  on  the  self-same  day  ; 
The  anxious  at  each  invitation  views 
And  ponders  which  to  take,  and  which  refuse  ; 
From  this  or  that  to  part  he's  sadly  loth, 
And  sighs  to  think  he  cannot  dine  at  both. 

So  sings  the  immortal  Fusboz,  and  so  sing  I.  ...  The 
fact  is  that  Italy,  Greece,  Egypt,  and  Palestine  (all  four  con 
siderably  too  far  off)  are  the  only  countries  where  I  should 
feel  myself  at  home  and  have  full  enjoyment.  But  don't 
suppose  that  I  am  disparaging  those  which  may  possibly  be  in 
reach :  I  only  wish  that  you  would  choose  as  you  think  best 
and  wisest,  resting  assured  that  I  shall  be  perfectly  satisfied 
with  your  decision,  and  be  sure  also  that  then  I  shall  un 
doubtedly  find  out  reasons  why  that  is  the  best. 

AGE   1 8 



RUGBY,  May  $ist,  1846. 

Yesterday  Mr.  Fox,  who  was  here  at  the  school  ten  years 
ago,  and  has  been  for  five  years  a  missionary  at  Masulipatam 
in  the  Madras  Presidency,  addressed  as  many  as  chose  to 
come  to  hear  him.  What  he  said  was  Christian,  sensible,  and 
well  suited  to  his  audience,  and  no  flummery.  He  hopes  to 
come  again  next  half-year. 



RUGBY,  September  13^,  1846. 

With  reference  to  Dean  Carus's  question  about 
issics  and  Mathematics,  I  believe  your  answer  was  the  best. 
My  own  present  idea  (tho'  of  course  subject  to  subsequent 
modification)  is  to  make  Classics  my  strong  point  (following  my 
inclination  and  powers),  and  Mathematics  as  much  as  practi 
cable.  I  confess  I  should  like,  if  I  might  be  so  ambitious,  to 
take  more  than  a  mere  junior  op.  pass ;  but  I  would  rather  stick 
to  the  lower  parts  of  Mathematics,  so  as  to  get  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  all  their  principles  and  bearings,  etc.,  than  take 
a  higher  flight  if  solidity  below  were  thereby  to  be  sacrificed. 


RUGBY,  September  igth,  1846. 

.  .  .  We  are  endeavouring  to  establish  in  this  House  Shak- 
sperian  Readings ;  they  answer  very  well  at  some  of  the  other 
Houses  and  are  very  popular.  I  look  for  great  benefit  from  it 
to  the  House,  hoping  it  will  be  a  common  bond  to  the  different 
parts  of  the  House,  and  likewise  improve  the  literary  taste 
generally  in  the  House,  giving  them  something  better  than 
Marryatt,  Bulwer,  and  James. 


1846-1850.     Age  18-22. 

HORT  returned  to  Rugby  for  part  of  the  second  half- 
year  of  1846,  and  in  October  went  up  to  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge.  His  first  term  was  spent  in 
lodgings.  In  January  1847  he  moved  into  rooms 
in  the  New  Court,  on  his  tutor  the  Rev.  W.  H. 
Thompson's  staircase.  He  did  not  become  a  scholar 
of  the  College  till  April  1849.  In  1847  and  the  two 
following  years  he  competed  unsuccessfully  for  the 
University  scholarships.  In  these  competitions  it  is 
likely  that  width  of  reading  counted  for  less  than  what 
is  sometimes  called  '  pure  scholarship  '  ;  that  he  was 
a  very  accurate  scholar  can  hardly  be  doubted,  but  he 
was  never  brilliant  in  classical  composition.  The 
making  of  Greek  and  Latin  verses,  at  all  events,  was 
never  a  favourite  amusement  with  him,  as  it  used  to 
be  with  so  many  classical  scholars.  He  read  classics 
in  his  freshman's  year  with  the  Rev.  F.  Rendall  (after 
wards  a  master  at  Harrow),  and  later  with  W.  G.  Clark. 
Mr.  Rendall  reported  after  one  term's  experience : 
"  His  knowledge  of  the  classic  authors  is  certainly 
far  above  the  average ;  but  to  this  knowledge  he 
appears  to  me  to  superadd  much  more  important 


advantages  in  the  clearness  of  thought  and  refinement 
of  taste  which  his  criticism  and  composition  evince  in 
a  degree  of  maturity  beyond  his  years." 

It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  he  would  confine 
his  attention  to  the  regular  course  of  Classics  and 
Mathematics.  Subsequent  letters  reveal  not  only  the 
width  of  his  interests  as  an  undergraduate,  but  also 
how  well  prepared  was  his  mind  by  nature  and  Rugby 
training  to  gather  all  the  intellectual  advantages  of  the 
University.  He  had  undoubtedly  learnt  how  to  learn. 

A  word  is  perhaps  necessary  to  explain  his  religious 
development  at  this  period.  So  far,  as  has  been  shown, 
he  had  been  brought  up  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Evan 
gelical  school,  which  was  especially  influential  at  Chel 
tenham  ;  the  effects  of  this  training  were  doubtless 
modified  in  the  atmosphere  of  Rugby.  No  school 
letters  survive  to  tell  how  he  was  impressed,  as 
impressed  he  must  have  been,  by  the  religious  teach 
ing  of  Arnold,  and  afterwards  of  Tait ;  but  the  letter 
of  Easter  Day,  1 846,  is  sufficient  evidence  of  the  deep 
natural  piety  which  had  been  fostered  under  these  suc 
cessive  influences.  It  was  natural  that  at  Cambridge  he 
should  seek  out  first  the  teachers  of  the  Evangelical 
school,  who  then  represented  what  was  best  in  the 
religious  life  of  the  University.  Chief  of  these  was 
Dr.  Carus,  for  whom  he  always  retained  a  great  regard. 
At  a  not  much  later  period  however  he  outgrew  the 
Evangelical  teaching,  which  he  came  to  regard  as 
1  sectarian/  but  he  did  not  throw  himself  into  any 
opposite  camp.  It  would  be  a  great  mistake  to  sup 
pose  that  he  in  any  sense  cast  off  what  he  had  learnt 
in  early  years  ;  all  that  was  best  in  those  first  lessons 
had  become  part  and  parcel  of  himself.  Before  long 
he  was  to  come  under  other  influences,  especially  that 


of  F.  D.  Maurice  ;  but,  without  anticipating,  it  seems 
well  to  note  here  two  very  important  facts  in  the  history 
of  a  mind  singularly  receptive,  yet  singularly  inde 
pendent  :  that  there  was  at  no  time  any  decided  break 
in  the  continuity  of  his  religious  convictions  (one 
hardly  likes  to  call  them  opinions),  and  that  he  was 
even  from  the  first 

Nullius  addictus  iurare  in  verba  magistri. 

Combined  with  unbounded  gratitude  and  devotion  to 
those  masters  under  whose  influence  he  successively 
came  was  an  absolute  independence  of  judgment.  The 
extent  of  his  indebtedness  to  Arnold  was  certainly 
far  greater  than  it  is  possible  now  to  estimate  precisely. 
In  undergraduate  days,  if  not  before,  he  came  under  the 
spell  of  Coleridge.  It  is  significant  that  in  1847  he 
records  in  his  diary  the  dates  of  Coleridge's  birth  and 
death.  Nor  was  this  a  passing  boyish  enthusiasm  ;  the 
poet -philosopher's  works  became  the  subject  of  deep 
and  careful  study,  the  fruit  of  which  appears  in  the 
exhaustive  monograph  published  in  the  volume  of 
Cambridge  Essays  of  1856.  Possibly  what  first 
attracted  him  to  Coleridge  was  the  breadth  of  intel 
lectual  interest  which  in  him  went  along  with  spiritual 
earnestness.  From  Coleridge  to  Maurice  the  passage 
was  natural.  Maurice's  teaching  was  the  most  powerful 
element  in  his  religious  development,  satisfying  many  a 
want  which  had  hitherto  distressed  him  ;  yet,  as  indi 
cated  above,  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  call  him  without 
qualification  a  disciple  of  Maurice.  Before  he  had  made 
acquaintance  with  his  writings,  he  had  been  inevitably 
affected  by  the  forces  of  the  Oxford  Movement,  though 
he  was  throughout  alive  to  the  weaknesses  as  well  as 
the  strength  of  its  leaders.  In  the  loyalty  of  his 


churchmanship  one  can  trace  perhaps  the  most  certain 
indications  of  what  he  derived  from  this  source.  For 
he  was  emphatically  a  churchman ;  he  loved  greatly  the 
services  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  cared  much  for 
a  reverent  observance  of  all  matters  of  detail  in  wor 
ship.  Such  things  he  regarded  as  of  secondary 
importance,  but  never  with  indifference.  For  instance, 
his  devotional,  no  less  than  his  artistic,  feeling  was 
outraged  by  the  bare  and  ugly  churches  which  were 
far  commoner  forty  years  ago  than  now.  In  these 
matters,  as  in  those  of  higher  importance,  his  fairness 
and  openness  of  mind  were  conspicuous  even  in  under 
graduate  days.  Yet — and  the  reservation  is  extremely 
important — he  was  no  dispassionate  eclectic,  balancing 
opinions  with  the  cool  judgment  which  comes  of 
deficient  enthusiasm.  The  decision  was  with  him 
no  matter  of  merely  intellectual  interest.  The  main 
current  of  his  religious  thought  was,  as  has  been  said, 
continuous ;  but  such  changes  as  came  in  the  course  of 
growth  were  accompanied  by  anxious  self-questionings 
which  tore  his  whole  being  through  and  through.  The 
intensity  of  his  feeling  was  at  least  as  remarkable  as 
the  balance  of  his  judgment.  Nothing  was  more 
foreign  to  him  than  the  complacent  judicial  attitude 
commonly  ascribed  to  Goethe,  speaking  of  whom  in 
connection  with  Coleridge  he  said  :  "  There  are  other 
and  better  kinds  of  victory  than  those  which  issue  in 
an  imperial  calm."  l  So  again,  in  one  of  his  maturest 
writings,  he  says  :  "  Smooth  ways  of  thought  are  like 
smooth  ways  of  action  ;  truth  is  never  reached  or 
held  fast  without  friction  and  grappling."5  In  fact, 

1  Essay  on  S.  T.  Coleridge  in  Cambridge  Essays,  1856,  p.  351. 
'2  "The  Way,   the  Truth,   the   Life,"   Hulsean   Lectures  for    1871 
(published  1893),  p.  171. 


both   early  and   late  his  object  was  not  opinion,  but 

The  following  letters  all  belong  to  his  first  term  of 
residence  at  Cambridge  : — 


CAMBRIDGE,  October  31^,  1846. 

My  dearest  Father — I  ought  to  have  written  last  night, 
but  the  time  slipped  away  as  I  was  sitting  at  the  Union  till 
it  was  too  late  for  the  Post.  You  will  see  from  this  that  I 
have  joined  the  Union,  which  however,  if  I  may  judge  by  the 
impression  anything  you  have  said  about  it  left  on  my  mind, 
is  very  much  altered  since  its  Founder's  time.  We  have 
a  magnificent  room,  I  am  afraid  to  say  how  long,  for  Debates 
and  reading-room ;  also  a  smaller  and  snugger  room,  and,  I 
believe,  a  smoking-room,  and  a  really  excellent  Library  of  all 
subjects,  which  is  a  great  resource.  It  is  very  convenient  for 
me  at  present,  the  entrance  being  from  the  Hoop  Yard,  not 
grand  or  imposing  certainly.  Our  first  Debate  for  this  term 
is  to  be  on  Tuesday.  There  is  one  alteration  that  struck  me 
particularly  from  your  account  of  the  antient l  feuds,  viz.  there 
are  no  fines  for  non-attendance  at  Debates.  Romilly  asked  me 
to  wine  on  Thursday.  Professor  Sedgwick  was  there,  besides 
two  or  three  old  pupils  of  Romilly's  who  had  come  down  for 
the  day,  and  three  or  four  undergraduates,  chiefly,  I  think, 
of  other  colleges.  Romilly  talked  and  laughed  and  joked 
incessantly  for  every  one  else  as  well  as  himself.  There  was 
some  interesting  conversation  about  the  new  Planet ;  but  I 
could  not  make  it  out,  nor  can  I  remember  it  clearly.  Some 
observer,  I  think  here,  thinks  he  has  discovered  a  ring.  It 
appears  that  Mr.  Adams  of  St.  John's  had  made  his  calcula 
tions  in  the  spring,  and  sent  them  to  Greenwich  to  Airy,  the 
Astronomer-Royal ;  but  he  paid  no  attention  to  them,  and  to 
his  neglect  Sedgwick  attributed  the  loss  of  the  honour  to 
England  of  the  discovery.  He  mentioned  that  in  the  summer 

1  For  an  explanation  of  this  and  some  other  peculiarities  of  spelling, 
see  p.  55. 


he  and  some  one  else  had  seen  Mr.  '  Nep '  from  the  Observa 
tory  here,  but  did  not  recognise  him  as  the  planet  that  they 
were  looking  for. 

On  Sunday  I  went  to  St.  Mary's  to  hear  the  Hulsean 
lecturer  (Trench).  It  was  the  concluding  lecture  of  the  series, 
and  therefore  scarcely  a  fair  sample.  It  was  of  course  more 
intellectual  than  spiritual,  the  subject  being  (of  the  whole, 
which  is  in  the  press)  "  Christ  the  Desire  of  all  Nations,  or 
the  Unconscious  Prophecies  of  Heathendom,"  a  noble  subject, 
but  most  difficult  to  deal  with  well.  His  lecture  was  a  sort 
of  resume,  cautioning  against  three  errors — ist,  of  regarding 
Heathendom  as  utterly  devoid  of  all  true  light;  2nd,  of 
exalting  the  dim  light  of  Heathendom  at  the  expense  of 
Christianity ;  and  3rd,  of  finding  no  matter  for  thought  in  the 
Heathen  writers.  He  was  very  earnest,  tho'  he  had  a  pain 
ful  delivery ;  and  considering  its  nature,  it  was  a  very  beautiful 
lecture,  giving  here  and  there  by  chance  expressions  *  windows 
into  the  man,'  which  showed  what  a  beautiful  preacher  he 
would  be  on  a  less  directly  intellectual  subject.  ...  I  forgot 
to  mention  that  at  Trinity  Church  in  the  morning  I  was 
fortunately  a  quarter  of  an  hour  early,  and  so  obtained  a  seat ; 
plenty  who  came  before  the  service  had  none,  and  a  good 
many  who  came  for  the  sermon  could  not  get  in,  there  not 
being  even  standing  room  anywhere  within  the  walls  or  doors. 
.  .  .  It  is  since  you  left  that  the  'Little  Go'  has  been 
instituted  (officially  '  The  Previous  Examination ').  It  takes 
place  after  a  year  and  a  half.  .  .  .  Thompson  is  our  Classical 
Lecturer,  and  does  it  exceedingly  well,  shallowly  for  the  shallow, 
deeply  for  the  deep,  though  in  the  latter  respect  rather  point 
ing  to  other  resources  than  entering  fully  on  them  himself. 
...  I  have  heard  since  I  came  up  a  noble  act  of  Tait's. 
Byrne  had  worked  very  hard  for  the  Exhibitions,  and  fully 
expected  one,  but  came  fifth ;  and  there  was  no  '  broken ' 
one.  On  returning  to  Rugby  we  were  surprised  to  see  Byrne's 
name  on  the  board  for  a  broken  one.  Nobody  whom  I  asked 
could  tell  me  about  it.  It  now  turns  out  that  Tait  has  given 
him  an  Exhibition  for  two  years,  i.e.  £120,  out  of  his  own 
pocket,  and  had  it  put  up  as  if  he  had  gained  it  in  the  regular 



CAMBRIDGE,  November  $th,  1846. 

...  I  answered  your  last  letter  but  one  in  a  great  hurry 
supernumerarily,  and  so  did  not  examine  all  your  questions ; 
among  them  I  see  the  coats  mentioned.  I  must  have  mis 
understood  you  on  that  point,  for  I  got  the  frockcoat  some 
time  ago,  and  have  been  keeping  my  best  l  tails '  as  dress, 
tho'  they  are  not  first-rate  for  that  purpose.  Before  I  do  any 
thing  more,  therefore,  I  want  to  know  your  wish.  I  should 
add  that  at  the  time  I  asked  Law  what  he  generally  made 
evening  coats  of,  and  he  said  that  of  invisible  green  more  than 
any  other  colour ;  however,  if  you  wish  the  blue,  say  so.  Say 
also  about  the  brass  buttons,  horresco  referens.  .  .  . 

Carus  mentioned  by  the  way  that  the  King  of  Prussia  has 
sent  a  gold  medal  to  Archdeacon  Hare  with  a  letter  of  thanks 
for  his  noble  vindication  of  Luther  from  the  attacks  of  our  own 
Tractarians,  in  a  long  note  to  his  Mission  of  the  Comforter, 
lately  publisht,  which  said  book  Carus  likewise  highly  recom 
mended.  One  other  book  he  said  every  one  should  make  it 
his  business  to  read,  the  Homilies.  You  do  not  often  see  or 
hear  anything  of  them  now. 

I  went  on  Thursday  week  to  one  of  Mr.  Wilson's  Scottish 
Entertainments  (the  '  Nicht  wi'  Burns '  man),  as  I  was  rather 
curious  to  hear  him.  His  prose  explanations  were  miserable, 
very  like  the  showman  at  Wombwell's,  and  you  couldn't  help 
fancying  that  if  you  were  to  interrupt  him,  he  would  have  to 
begin  all  over  again ;  and  the  jokes  he  was  evidently  tired  of 
repeating  to  so  many  audiences.  There  was  a  good  deal  of 
affectation  also  in  the  way  that  he  sang  many  of  the  songs. 
Most  of  them  were  rather  poor,  but  "  A  Man's  a  Man  for  a' 
that "  was  magnificent ;  he  almost  did  it  and  Burns  justice,  no 
easy  matter.  By  the  bye  you  made  a  mistake  when  you  were 
here  in  not  going  into  Trinity  library  to  see  Thorwaldsen's 
statue  of  Byron.  He  doesn't  look  very  'morantic'  in  his 
dressing-gown,  but,  as  well  as  I  can  judge,  it  is  a  fine  statue ; 
the  likeness  is  particularly  good,  tho'  rather  favourable  than 




CAMBRIDGE,  November  \2th,  1846. 

To  make  sure  of  my  letter  reaching  you  in  good  time,  I 
write  the  hour  after  I  have  received  yours.  I  had  a  treat  on 
Monday  night  such  as  I  am  not  likely  often  to  have,  and  1 
am  sure  you  would  have  given  something  to  have  had :  I 
heard  from  the  lips  of  Prof.  Challis  and  Mr.  Adams  the  ac 
count  of  their  discovery  of  Neptune.  -  told  me  that  that 
night  was  the  first  meeting  for  this  term  of  the  Cambridge 
Philosophical  Society,  and  asked  me  to  go  with  him.  .  .  . 
Mr.  Adams  explained  in  some  degree  the  difficulties  and 
peculiarities  of  his  calculations,  but  they  were  all  but  wholly 
unintelligible  to  me.  One  curious  thing  I  fished  out,  that  the 
well-known  theory  of  a  certain  rule  in  the  relative  distances  of 
the  planets  from  the  sun  as  compared  with  that  of  the  earth, 
is  found  false  in  Neptune's  case.  The  rule  was  that,  sup 
posing  the  distance  of  one  planet  from  the  sun  to  be  x  times 
as  great  as  that  of  the  earth  from  the  sun,  the  distance  of  the 
next  outer  planet  from  the  sun  would  be  2  (x-  i)  times  that 
of  the  earth.  For  instance,  Uranus  is  1 9  times  as  distant ; 
and  so  they  expected  Neptune  to  be  2  (19-1),  i.e. 
36,  but  he  turns  out  to  be  (I  think)  only  33.  There  was 
then  some  discussion  as  to  the  respective  honours  of  Adams 
and  Leverrier;  Adams  said  that  he  gave  Leverrier  the  full 
credit  of  the  discovery,  but,  as  a  matter  of  calculation,  he 
claimed  for  himself  the  credit  of  prior  and  independent  con 
jecture.  Challis  said  the  same,  and  merely  claimed  credit  for 
himself  on  the  score  of  having  laboured  most,  having  taken 
between  3000  and  4000  observations  between  the  end  of  July 
and  September.  He,  it  seems,  actually  saw  the  planet  before 
its  discovery  at  Berlin,  and  had  suspicions  of  its  being  the 
planet,  but  did  not  examine  it.  On  coming  home  I  sat  down 
to  write  an  account  of  what  I  had  heard,  but  when  I  had 
written  a  good  deal,  was  obliged  to  go  to  bed  by  the  hour ; 
and  unfortunately  I  totally  forgot  it  till  this  afternoon ;  now 
on  trying  to  complete  it  I  find  my  recollections  very  imper 
fect.  .  .  . 

One  word  on  the  Union,  etc.     You  are  anxious  that   I 


should  not  devote  to  its  studies  too  much  time  in  preference 
to  Classics  and  Mathematics ;  these  latter  should  undoubtedly 
have  the  pre-eminence,  but  I  am  sure  you  will  allow  that  alone 
they  would  form  but  poor  pabulum  for  the  mind.  Philology, 
cram,  science,  both  natural  and  of  abstract  symbols,  and 
Paley  (ugh !)  are  by  themselves  all  but  useless ;  they  are 
rather  instruments,  but,  if  you  have  nothing  to  employ  your 
instruments  on,  why  keep  them  ?  I  should  be  the  last  in  the 
world  to  join  in  the  insane  cry  against  them  (which  happily  is 
now  somewhat  hushed),  so  strong  a  sense  have  I  of  their  value  ; 
only  allow  room  for  somewhat  else,  and  depend  upon  it  they 
will  not  suffer.  Compare  the  edition  of  a  Greek  play  by  a  mere 
philologer,  however  good,  with  one  by  a  man  who  has  read  and 
thought  something  else,  and  you  will  see  how,  for  the  purposes 
of  mere  philology,  superior  the  latter  is,  even  with  inferior 
scholarship.  .  .  . 

I  quite  agree  with  what  you  say  of  Trench,  but  the  blindness 
of  the  Achill  Herald  in  accusing  him  of  Popery  made  me  say 
more  than  I  intended.  Trench  might  have  learnt  by  the 
lines  of  one  who  is  now,  I  fear,  an  Anglo-Catholic — 

Sovereign  masters  of  all  hearts  ! 

Know  ye  who  hath  set  your  parts  ? 

He  who  gave  you  breath  to  sing, 

By  whose  strength  ye  sweep  the  string, 

He  hath  chosen  you  to  lead 

His  Hosannas  here  below  : 

Mount  and  claim  your  glorious  meed  : 

Linger  not  with  sin  and  woe.1 

Here  I  have  been  again  at  my  long  quotations,  but  I  don't 
think  you'll  cry  because  you  have  got  it.  ...  Last  night  I 
went  to  St.  Michael's  to  hear  -  — .  .  .  .  Somehow  I  never 
like  stars,  least  of  all  planets  (TrAavr/Tcu)  or  wandering  stars. 


CAMBRIDGE,  December  itfh,  1846. 

.  .  .  Poor  Dr.  Mill  has,  I  grieve  to  say,  verified  the  ac 
counts  of  him.     Having  disposed  the  Sunday  before  of  the 

1  Then  follows  a  quotation  of  most  of  Keble's  poem. 


rationalistic  and  semi -rationalistic  theories,  he  yesterday  de 
voted  his  whole  sermon  to  attacking  the  Evangelistic ;  he 
praised  the  truth  of  the  central  doctrine,  but  blamed  its  being 
taught  exclusively,  assuming  that  it  is  so  (true  to  a  certain 
extent,  but  the  exception  is  not  the  rule).  In  fact  his  whole 
course  lay  in  misrepresentation,  confounding  Evangelicalism 
with  Methodism,  which  last  is  worse  than  Popery,  as  being 
more  insidious.  At  the  same  time  his  own  doctrines  were  the 
reverse  of  sound ;  he  advanced  the  sacraments  in  a  strange, 
inconsistent  way,  denouncing  strongly  the  opus  operatum,  and 
any  idea  of  sacrifice  in  the  Eucharist  (quoting  Heb.  x.  12,  14), 
and  yet  attacking  the  only  other  alternative ;  in  fact,  timidly 
bringing  forward  Baptismal  Regeneration.  He  wound  up  by  a 
far  more  justifiable  denunciation  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance 
and  Paean  over  its  defeat.  It  is  fair  to  add  that  he  used  no 
hard  names,  and,  tho'  his  doctrines  were  abominable,  his  whole 
tone  inclined  me  favorably  towards  the  man. 

I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  taking  the  girls  to  the 
sights  without  waiting  for  me,  more  especially  Mad.  Tussaud's, 
which  is  to  me  disgusting.  Why  do  we  shrink  from  an  ourang- 
outang  ?  because  the  rezemblance  is  too  great.  Where  the  un- 
likeness  of  the  accompaniments  preponderates,  we  admire  the 
art,  as  in  a  painting  or  statue ;  but  a  wax  figure  is  like  a  rosy- 
cheekt  corpse  in  the  attitude  of  a  living  man. 

In  the  Lent  term  of  1847  there  was  great  excite 
ment  in  the  University  over  the  contested  election  for 
the  Chancellorship.  Hort's  account  of  it  in  the  follow 
ing  three  letters  shows  that  he  was  by  no  means  a 

CAMBRIDGE,  Tuesday  night  [February  2^nf,  1847]. 

My  dearest  Father — I  open  Kate's  envelope  to  tell  you 
that  the  affair  of  the  Chancellorship  is  getting  most  serious. 
St.  John's  are  going  to  work  doubly ;  they  summon  all  their 
own  men  as  a  College  question,  and  raise  the  cry  of  the  Church. 
The  Morning  Post  has  to-day  a  leader  in  behalf  of  them  of  a 

VOL.  I  E 


very  strange  kind,  insinuating  that  the  Government  are  going 
to  throw  their  weight  into  the  scale  of  Prince  Albert ;  in  short, 
high  and  low,  from  every  hole  and  corner  in  the  kingdom, 
Johnians  and  High  Churchmen  are  being  summoned  up,  and 
have  been  being  summoned  since  two  hours  after  the  news  ot 
our  late  Chancellor's  death  arrived.  Prince  Albert,  as  you 
will  have  seen,  gave  a  sort  of  refusal,  but  I  hear  that  it  is 
contrary  to  etiquette  for  a  royal  personage  to  contest  an 
election ;  and  his  committee  have  determined  to  go  to  the 
Poll,  so  that  he  does  not  come  forward  as  a  candidate,  but,  if 
they  are  successful,  they  will  offer  it  to  him,  and  there  is  reason 
to  believe  he  would  accept  it.  This  was  exactly  the  course 
pursued  in  the  case  of  the  Duke  of  Gloucester.  Lord  Powis' 
committee  and  friends  include  most  of  the  Law  Officers  and 
many  leading  Churchmen  ;  the  Prince's  all  the  heads  of  houses 
but  the  Master  of  John's,  President  of  Queen's,  and  Master  of 
Clare  Hall,  and  this  last  has  only  withdrawn  because  of  the 
Prince's  refusal.  We  have  also  almost,  if  not  quite,  all  the 
Professors  and  leading  men  of  the  University,  and,  the  papers 
say,  four  Cabinet  Ministers,  but  who  I  don't  know.  But  most 
of  all  Carus  has  publicly  declared  that  the  real  movers  of  Lord 
Powis  are  the  Tractarian  party,  who  hope  thereby  to  effect  an 
entrance  into  Cambridge ;  and  I  understand  that  he  is  can 
vassing  and  otherwise  exerting  himself  most  actively  against 
Lord  Powis.  Now  he  is  so  very  sober-minded,  free  from  party 
spirit  both  in  religious  and  other  matters,  and  charitable,  and 
unmeddling  that  it  must  be  something  real  and  considerable 
that  would  excite  him  thus.  Under  these  circumstances  every 
vote  is  of  consequence,  and  the  contest  seems  generally 
expected  to  be  neck  and  neck.  The  Polling  begins  on 
Thursday,  and  ends  at  noon  on  Saturday. — Your  affectionate 
son,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 

In  great  haste. 


CAMBRIDGE,  February  26th,  1847. 

You  will  read  a  full  account  of  what  has  taken  place 
(as  well  as  what  has  not)  in  the  Times,  tho'  I  should 
observe  that  the  latter  ingredient  will  largely  preponderate 

AGE   1 8 


over  the  former,  i.e.  the  penny-a-liners  have  proved  them 
selves  penny -&-liars ;  but  I  must  give  you  some  scraps  of 
information.  The  story  (I  am  not  sure  whether  it  is  in  the 
Times  or  some  other  paper)  about  the  marching  in  procession 
and  the  banners,  etc.,  is  a  pure  fabrication  from  beginning 
to  end.  I  was  at  the  Senate  House  yesterday  five  minutes 
before  the  time,  and  found  the  Galleries  crowded,  but  managed 
to  squeeze  myself  a  place.  Punctually  at  ten  the  authorities 
arrived,  and  here  a  fable  was  dispelled.  It  is  popularly 
believed  that  the  Proctors'  books,  which  they  carry  about 
with  a  chain,  are  no  books  at  all,  but  mere  wood ;  however, 
something  was  read  out  of  one  of  them.  All  the  ceremony 
described  in  the  Papers  may  possibly  have  taken  place,  but  I 
don't  think  it  did.  On  the  right  hand  on  entering  was  Lord 
Powis'  table,  on  the  left  the  Prince's.  Every  one  of  the 
A.M.'s  went  up  to  one  of  these,  and  received  a  ticket  on 
which  he  wrote  his  name  and  I  don't  know  what  else ;  he 
then  (i.e.  as  soon  as  he  could)  went  up  to  the  '  Vice's '  table, 
where  sat  the  Proctors,  Registrary,  Scrutators,  Bedells,  etc., 
and  handed  his  card  to  the  Vice,  who  read  it,  showed  it  to 
one  man  to  look  out  the  name  in  the  Calendar  and  make  sure 
of  all  being  right,  and  to  two  or  three  others  to  register,  and 
then  deposited  it  in  one  of  the  two  slits  in  a  huge  box  he 
had  before  him,  one  slit  for  each  candidate,  each  time  calling 
forth  cheers  and  groans  according  to  the  slit  he  put  it  in. 
This  was  the  whole  business.  Early  in  the  day  the  body  was 
crowded  with  A.M.'s;  one  of  the  Bulldogs  admitted  a  certain 
number  at  a  time  within  the  rails  which  separated  the  dais, 
and  the  rush  each  time  was  tremendous.  It  took  some  time 
each  turn  for  three  or  four  Bulldogs  to  shut  down  the  bar ; 
they  forced  it  down  on  the  heads  and  backs  of  whoever  was 
there.  A.M.'s  were  sprawling  on  the  floor,  having  their  hats 
smashed  or  holding  them  above  their  heads,  and  you  may 
imagine  the  undergraduates  were  not  silent.  The  bar,  which 
was  four  inches  thick,  soon  broke ;  they  brought  in  carpenters, 
but  ultimately  they  made  the  passage  much  narrower,  and 
crossed  batons  across  it.  The  'profound  sensation'  at  the 
arrival  of  the  Ministers  is  a  monstrous  fiction ;  nobody  but 
the  dons  knew  anything  about  it  till  hours  afterwards.  The 


only  persons  recognised,  as  far  as  I  remember,  were  the 
Bishop  of  Norwich,  Lord  John  Manners,  and  Lord  Fitzwilliam ; 
this  last  came  in  his  scarlet  robe  as  D.C.L.,  and  elicited  great 
shouts  of  "  Lobster  ! "  I  hear  his  vote  was  refused  (I  don't 
know  why),  as  was  to-day  that  of  the  Provost  of  Eton.  At 
first  Lord  Powis  had  a  majority,  then  the  Prince,  then  Lord 
Powis,  and  his  steadily  increased  up  to  84,  and  then 
slowly  fell,  till  at  nine  last  night  the  Prince  had  a  majority 
of  17;  he  had  about  an  hour  ago  (at  four)  one  of  between 
50  and  60.  The  Gallery  noises  have  been  tremendous; 
first  of  all  the  cries  of  "  Cap,  cap  !  "  or  "  Hat,  hat !  "  to  who 
ever  below  retained  either  of  those  articles  on  his  head,  and 
the  "Three  cheers  for  Prince  Albert "— " for  the  Queen"— 
"for  Lord  Powis" — "for  Lord  Powis'  Committee" — "for 
Lord  Powis  and  Church  Principles" — "for  the  Vice-Chancellor" 
— "  for  the  Senior  Proctor  " — "  the  Ladies  "  (of  whom  three 
or  four  from  time  to  time  came  in),  etc.  etc.,  with,  of  course, 
groans  and  hisses  to  match.  There  were  shouts  for  "Poll, 
Poll,  state  of  the  Poll ! "  and  then  perhaps  some  patriotic  don 
would  write  down  the  number  and  hold  it  up,  and  then  a 
shout  to  hold  it  higher,  and  write  it  plainer,  etc.  etc.  From 
eight  to  nine  last  night  it  was  awful ;  there  were  only  a  few 
poor  candles  on  the  three  tables,  so  that  the  Gallery  was 
almost  in  darkness.  It  was  not,  like  the  morning,  a  succession 
of  shouts,  but  without  break  one  loud,  shrill,  piercing  screamo- 
howlo-whistlo-yell,  and  occasionally  the  notes  of  a  bugle.  At 
nine  the  Senior  Proctor  came  forward  to  declare  the  state  of 
the  Poll,  but  he  could  not  obtain  silence,  and  was  obliged  to 
pronounce  the  words  without  being  heard.  I  should  have  men 
tioned  among  the  morning  sounds  whistles  to  denote  Whewell, 
barkings  for  the  Bulldogs  (the  insinuation  of  the  penny -a- 
liar  is  a  lie),  grunts  for  the  Johnians,  and  Growings  for  I  don't 
know  who.  To-day  there  was  a  terrible  uproar  about  three 
from  two-thirds  of  the  body  of  the  house  assuming  at  once 
their  gowns  and  caps ;  this  was  greeted  with  the  most 
tremendous  howlings  and  stampings,  but  it  was  no  use,  and 
half  the  Gallery  finally  assumed  their  caps.  Both  days  papers 
and  squibs  of  various  sorts  circulated  below;  one  yesterday, 
I  hear,  described  thus  the  merits  of  the  two  candidates : 


one  had  saved  a  mitre  and  the  other  invented  a  hat  (i.e.  the 
Albert  hat,  embalmed  in  Punch}.  It  ended  with  putting  into 
the  mouth  of  a  Johnian  the  assertion  of  his  determination 
"to  go  the  whole  hog  for  John."  Another  to-day  was  a 
tolerable  parody  of  the  Witches  in  Macbeth,  a  trio  of  P's 
forming  the  dialogue,  "  Powis,  Puseyite,  and  Punch,"  which 
last  personage  has  of  course  been  unable  to  resist  the  oppor 
tunity  of  a  cut  at  Royalty  in  any  shape. 


CAMBRIDGE,  March  izth,  1847. 

.  .  .  Everything  is  perfectly  quiet  here  after  the  Election. 
One  of  the  best  things  about  it  is  that  yesterday  Punch  had 
a  caricatured  version  of  the  Address  which  Crick  as  Public 
Orator  had  to  present  to  his  Highness,  which  represented 
Crick  as  mitre-hunting.  Now  the  best  of  the  joke  is  that 
Crick  is  a  Johnian  and  voted  for  Lord  Powis.  .  .  .  Two,  how 
ever,  of  Punch's  jokes  this  week  on  the  subject  are  good, 
tho'  most  of  his  observations  are  abominable.  He  had 
before  observed  that  Prince  Albert,  in  consideration  of  his 
great  knowledge  of  law,  was  expected  soon  to  be  admitted  to 
Lincoln's  Inn  •  he  now  observes  that  there  is  no  difficulty, 
for,  since  the  Prince  originally  refused  the  Chancellorship 
from  want  of  unanimity  and  has  nevertheless  now  accepted 
it,  he  has  eaten  his  terms.  The  other  is  that  he  is  coming  up 
to  Trinity  to  reside,  and  has  already  entered  the  young 
Princes  as  Under-sizars. 

With  the  possible  exception  of  a  few  schoolfellows, 
it  does  not  seem  that  Hort  had  friends  at  Cambridge 
before  he  came  up.  One  of  his  earliest  and  closest 
College  friendships — one  which  lasted  to  the  very  end 
of  his  life — was  with  Mr.  Gerald  Blunt  (now  Rector  of 
Chelsea)  of  Pembroke  College,  whose  family  were 
already  intimate  with  the  Horts  at  Cheltenham. 
Another  early  friend  was  Henry  Mackenzie,  who  died 
young.  At  some  time  in  his  first  year  of  residence  he 


must  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  John  Ellerton,  an 
acquaintance  which  ripened  into  a  lifelong  intimacy. 
His  name  will  perhaps  be  more  prominent  than  any 
other  in  the  following  pages,  as  nearly  all  the  letters 
on  both  sides  were  preserved  ;  to  him  he  could  always 
talk  without  reserve,  and  to  him,  whenever  they  were 
apart,  he  poured  out  on  paper  his  thoughts  on  every 
subject  grave  and  gay.  Ellerton  was  President  in 
1847  of  the  Addison  Society,  called  at  first  the 
Cambridge  Attic  Society,  an  essay  club  of  which  Hort 
was  a  member.  He  also  belonged  to  a  Historical 
Society,  and  attended  Sunday  evening  meetings  at 
Dr.  Carus'  rooms.  He  began  before  long  to  speak 
at  the  debates  of  the  Union,  of  which  Mr.  H.  C.  E. 
Childers  was  President  in  the  last  term  of  I  847.  The 
day  of  multifarious  athletic  amusements  had  not  yet 
come.  Hort's  principal  exercise  was  walking  with 
Blunt  and  other  friends  ;  tradition  also  tells  of  nocturnal 
perambulations  in  the  cloisters  of  Nevill's  Court,  pro 
longed  sometimes  far  into  the  night.  In  vacations  the 
object  of  the  walks  was  generally  botany  ;  the  diaries 
of  this  and  other  years  are  crowded  with  notices  of 
plants  collected  or  observed,  and  of  botanising  walks 
with  C.  C.  Babington.  In  the  Christmas  vacation  of 
1 847  he  took  a  small  pupil  at  Cheltenham,  his  only  ex 
perience  of  this  kind  of  work. 


CAMBRIDGE,  April  29^,  1847. 

.  .  .  When  my  Exhibition  comes  in  I  do  not  know,  but  I 
suppose  it  will  be  soon.  Talking  of  the  Exhibition  reminds 
me  that  I  sent  in  to-day  a  couple  of  Epigrams,  more  for  the 
sake  of  having  something  of  the  sort  to  take  an  interest  in, 
than  any  good  likely  to  be  gained.  I  made  the  recent  dis- 



coveries  of  the  '  perturbations '  of  Uranus  by  Neptune,  and 
Saturn  by  Uranus  the  subject,  to  exemplify  the  thesis  '  udov- 
juevds  re  KOL  w#wv,'  *  Pushed  and  pushing,'  showing  what  a 
mistake  it  was  to  suppose  that  the  stars  went  on  quietly  and 
civilly,  each  minding  his  own  business. 

I  am  not  going  to  carry  on  a  controversy  on  the  respective 
merits  of  /  and  ed.  ...  I  do  not  clearly  understand  whether 
you  set  up  Addison  individually  as  an  authority  and  standard 
in  opposition  to  Hare  and  Thirlwall.  I  hope  not.  If  you 
regard  them  as  mere  'learned  critics,'  you  do  them  great 
injustice.  Not  only  in  learning,  powers  of  mind,  and  critical 
acumen,  but  in  elegance  of  diction  and  style,  and  sound 
practical  good  sense,  is  each  of  them  worth  a  dozen  Addisons. 
As  you  say  ' familiar  diction,'  perhaps  you  would  concede 
their  superiority  in  writings  of  a  high  didactic  character,  as 
Philosophy,  Theology,  or  History  ;  but  I  would  only  refer  you 
to  Hare's  Guesses  at  Truth  for  as  elegant  'familiarities'  as 
are  to  be  found  anywhere.  ...  I  by  no  means  think  it 
incumbent  on  all,  who  consider  Hare's  orthography  best,  to 
adopt  it  on  that  account  in  opposition  to  the  general  fashion, 
but  simply  wish  to  excuse  those  who  have  no  objection  to  so 
doing.  But  if  I  am  not  very  much  mistaken,  you  will  soon 
find  orthography  like  everything  else,  getting  reformed  univer 
sally  ;  out  of  the  50,000  words  of  which  our  language  consists, 
it  is  said  that  50  only  are  pronounced  as  they  are  spelled; 
and  people  are  beginning  to  find  out  what  fools  they  have 
been  in  sticking  to  such  absurdities  so  long.  ...  As  to  the 
character  you  give  Hare,  of  that  I  know  nothing ;  I  can  only 
say  that  all  his  theological  writings  that  I  have  read  are  more 
free  from  dogmatism  than  any  of  the  present  day,  and  more 
liberally  minded.  However,  it  so  happens  I  know  why  you 
abuse  him ;  you  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag  once  before.  He 
admired  '  Ckristabtl*  !  !  That  is  his  crime. 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  i$th,  1847. 

.  .  .   Last  night  at  twenty  minutes  past  eight,  as  I  was 
going  to  take  my  letters  to  the  post,  when  I  got  into  the  New 


Court,  I  saw  some  dozen  or  two  of  men  rushing  distractedly 
about  in  all  directions,  but  mostly  under  the  arch  towards  the 
river.  ...  I  met  a  friend,  who  told  me  that  the  kitchens 
were  on  fire.     I  then  looked  and  saw  a  slight  smoke  in  that 
direction ;  going  into  the  Bishop's  Hostel,  it  appeared  much 
more  formidable  and  very  lurid.     More  men  came  rushing 
out  and  there  was  a  shout  for  buckets.     I  attempted  to  get 
into  NevilFs  Court  by  the  end  of  the  arches  nearest  the  Hostel, 
but  the  smoke  was  too  strong.      I  saw  there  was  plenty  of 
work  before  us,  so,  while  I  had  time  I  rushed  upstairs  and  put 
on  my  old  greatcoat ;  by  this  time  there  was  a  good  many 
men  going  about,  and  buckets  carrying  to  and  fro.     I  went 
into  NevilTs  Court  by  the  nearer  end  of  the  arches,  observing 
as  I  went  through  a  bright  red  glare  on  the  opposite  windows, 
and  when  I  got  to  the  corner  near  the  Library  door  and  looked 
back,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  flame  mixed  with  the  smoke. 
.  .  .  There   were   great   shouts  to  form  a    'line,'  and  I   of 
course  joined  in.      We  had  a  double  line,  one  side  passing  up 
the  buckets  filled  from  the  river,  the  other  passing  them  down 
again  when  emptied.      And  there  were  several  other  lines  in 
the  same  way.  ...  At  the  river  end  of  each  stood  several 
men  in  the  water,  filling  the  buckets.       It  was  very  hard  work 
at  one  time,  for  they  passed  along  very  quick.    We  were  a  very 
expeditious  line,  for  we  were  silent ;  the  series  of  common 
buckets,   fire-buckets,   slop-pails,  water-cans,  and  everything 
that  would  hold  water  or  wouldn't,  went  on  pretty  continu 
ously,  only  broken  by  some  man  occasionally  seizing  a  water- 
can  between  his  knees  to  wrench  off  the  lid ;  knuckles  occa 
sionally   suffered  from  the  iron  handles  tumbling  on  them, 
when  we  caught  hold  of  the  bucket  itself,  for  we  had  no  time 
to  be  dainty,  but  snatched  at  any  part  of  the  utensil.     The 
fire  rapidly  increased,  and  soon  bright  orange  flames  shot  up 
terrifically  above  the  roof,  and  seemed  advancing  westward ; 
but  just  then  the  first  engine  arrived  amid  'loud  cheering.' 
Before  long  the  gear  was  all  ready,  and  Evans,  one  of  our 
scholars,  carried  the  first  hose  up  a  ladder  placed  against  the 
outside  of  the  butteries,  and  it  told  rapidly,  the  flames  instant 
aneously  decreasing.     One  engine  after  another  arrived,  till 
we  had   five.  .      .  I   worked  two   or  three   minutes  at  the 



engine,  but  the  labour  was  tremendous,  and  I  soon  left 
off.  ...  I  stayed  there  till  near  12,  and  they  were  then 
examining  the  roof  all  along,  the  engines  having  ceased  to 
play  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  before.  .  .  .  Had  the 
engines  been  five  minutes  later,  it  must  have  caught  the  first 
staircase  in  NevilPs  Court,  and  from  one  end  to  the  other, 
with  the  exception  of  the  outer  walls,  is  one  mass  [of]  old  oak, 
partitions  and  all !  !  with  those  massive  broad  staircases  to  pro 
duce  a  full  draught  and  the  wind  setting  that  way.  The  New 
Court  is  fireproof,  but  my  rooms  abut  on  Nevill's  Court.  The 
Hall  also  must  have  caught,  and  the  first  beam  of  the  Combina 
tion  Room  was  just  charred.  They  got  the  pictures  out  of  it 
in  a  great  hurry,  and  I  hear  damaged  several  by  the  corners 
of  the  frames  of  others. 


CAMBRIDGE,  October  29^,  1847. 

...  As  to  '  setting  about '  Composition,  I  have  some 
thoughts  of  writing  for  the  College  Prize  Poem  in  Alcaics  on 
the  occupation  of  Ferrara,  which  will  be  something  of  interest. 
I  do  a  little  of  routine  as  well  as  read  some  one  or  two  books 
in  Classics,  besides  the  Phanissae  for  Christmas  and  the  March 
'  Little-go,'  alias  *  Smalls,'  alias  '  Previous  Examination  of 
Junior  Sophs.'  Thus  much  for  Classics,  but,  as  I  told  you, 
my  chief  object  during  this  term  must  be  Mathematics,  for  I 
cannot  like  the  plan  which  many  Classical  men  pursue  of 
almost  entirely  neglecting  their  Mathematics  till  the  last  few 
months  before  their  Degree,  when  they  cram  up  as  much  as 
they  may  want  to  pass  their  Junior  or  Senior  Op.  degree  as 
the  case  may  be ;  but  whatever  benefit  may  be  derived  from 
Mathematics  in  the  way  of  disciplining  the  mind,  is  thus 
almost  entirely  lost.  Moreover  I  must,  if  I  intend  to  get  any 
more  ist  classes,  conform  in  a  great  measure  to  the  College 
Examinations  ;  and  the  approaching  one  at  Christmas  is  about 
half  Mathematics,  two -sixths  Metaphysics,  and  one -sixth 

Gray,  the  new  Bishop  of  Cape  Town  (who,  you  may  re 
member,  preached  a  sermon  at  St.  John's  Church,  Cheltenham, 


some  weeks  ago),  is  to  preach  at  both  Cams'  Churches  on 
Sunday :  Carus  spoke  of  him  in  the  highest  terms  on  Sunday 


CAMBRIDGE,  November  i2tk,  1847. 

I  fear  I  shall  not  be  able  to  write  you  a  long  letter,  for  I 
shall  have  to  be  at  the  Union  from  after  Chapel  probably  till 
ten,  as  the  whole  Sunday  question  is  stirred  de  novo,  and  is 
become  terribly  complicated.  .  .  .  The  validity  of  the  meeting 
last  term  which  closed  the  Union  till  three  on  Sundays  is  (I  fear 
justly)  impugned ;  the  law  is,  "  No  meeting  of  the  Society  shall 
be  competent  to  make  new  laws,  or  to  alter  or  suspend  existing 
laws,  unless  the  meeting  shall  consist  of  Forty  Members." 
Now  at  the  meeting  in  question  there  were  confessedly  above 
forty  present  during  the  greater  part,  if  not  the  whole,  of  the 
discussion.  How  many  were  present  at  the  division,  nobody 
knows,  but  those  who  voted,  as  shown  by  the  division  return, 
were  only  thirty-seven.  No  counting  out  had  taken  place,  and 
the  question  is  whether  under  the  circumstances  forty  voters 
were  necessary;  the  laws  do  not  say,  but  I  must  in  honesty 
think  that  common  sense  and  justice  require  it.  ... 

I  do  not  feel  quite  so  sanguine  as  you  do  respecting  the 
Bishop  of  Cape  Town's  reception  at  Cheltenham;  I  heard 
nothing  that  I  could  object  to,  but  some  of  his  expressions 
would  somewhat  startle  the  old  walls  of  St.  Mary's. 

I  suspect  from  your  words  that  you  do  not  quite  under 
stand  what  I  said  about  my  Mathematics.  It  is  not  a  question 
of  'earnestness,'  or  no  earnestness  about  them,  but  simply 
it  seems  to  me  better  to  work  out  and  well  understand  the 
principles  and  bearings  of  the  fundamental  sciences,  than 
merely  '  get  up '  a  string  of  '  cram '  propositions  in  the  high 
subjects,  without  knowing  the  why  and  the  wherefore  of  any 
thing.  More  generally,  there  are  two  extremes  here,  both 
very  common,  and,  I  think,  equally  pernicious  :  one  of  casting 
aside  the  Cambridge  studies,  merely  reading  enough  for  a 
degree,  and  indulging  wholly  in  other  literary  pursuits;  the 
other,  of  reading  nothing  but  Classics  and  Mathematics — in 
short,  setting  up  millstones  but  grinding  no  corn  in  them  ;  and 



again  it  seems  necessary  to  preserve  the  balance  of  College  and 
University  studies.  It  is  almost  Chapel  time,  so  I  must  con 
clude.  Kind  love  to  all. 


CAMBRIDGE,  November  26^/1,  1847. 
say    about    sacrificing   a   principle  to    a 

twhat  you 
lity  is  all  very  true,  provided  there  be  nothing  more 
than  a  technicality,  a  quibble,  as  in  the  case  you  mention ;  but 
it  was  not  so  with  us.  .  .  .  Would  it  be  right  to  give  a  false 
interpretation  because  we  disliked  the  immediate  consequences 
of  the  true  ?  nay,  more,  should  we  assert,  not  as  a  matter  of 

(rule  for  the  future,  but  as  a  matter  of  opinion  on  existing  words, 
— that  we  believed  the  words  of  the  law  had  meant  one  thing, 
while  we  really  believed  the  opposite, — merely  because  the 
consequences  of  speaking  the  truth  might  be  dangerous  and 
wrong  ?  Surely  not :  surely  our  opponents  might  say,  "  Is  not 
your  conduct  merely  a  putting  in  practice  of  the  maxims  of 
doing  evil  that  good  may  come,  and  of  not  keeping  faith  with 
heretics  ?  you  tell  us  that  it  is  for  the  sake  of  Christianity  you 
wish  to  shut  the  Union  on  Sundays,  and  then  in  order  to 
attain  this  end  you  have  recourse  to  principles  which  are 
most  opposed  to  Christianity.  .  .  ." 

must  be   an  ingenious   man   in  his  heterodoxy.     A 

favourite  hymn  of  C.  A.'s  I  have  since  discovered  to  be  an 
accurate  parody  of  a  short  love  song  of  Byron's,  but  what  the 
man  could  find  in  poor  Shelley  to  transmogrify  into  a  hymn 
to  anything,  is  more  than  I  can  guess.  That  sort  of  Mahomet- 
anism-and-water  is,  I  fear,  very  prevalent. 


SEGRAVE  VILLA,  CHELTENHAM,  December  2oth,  1847. 
My  dear  Ellerton — This  may  appear  very  early  for  me  to 
write  after  my  departure  from  Cambridge.  .  .  .  Verily  every 
circumstance  of  every  day,  be  it  news  of  crime,  or  of  heresy,  or 
of  sectarianism,  or  of  aught  else,  convinces  me  more  and  more 
that  the  Church  is  the  only  center  of  all  our  hopes,  that  only 


by  clinging  fast  to  her,  by  submitting  to  her  mild  and  lawful 
authority,  by  shaping  our  ways  according  to  her  indications, 
and  above  all  by  venerating  and  upholding  with  gratitude  and 
love,  and  leading  others  to  venerate,  those  Holy  Sacraments, 
which  no  less  than  His  Holy  Word  her  Divine  Head  has 
entrusted  to  her  keeping  and  administration,  can  we  hope  with 
any  well-grounded  cause  for  hope  either  to  preserve  our  own 
souls  and  minds  from  the  moral  and  intellectual  seductions 
which  swarm  everywhere  around,  or  to  maintain  among  others 
the  authority  of  God's  truth  and  God's  holy  law  amid  the  con 
flicting  whirlpools  of  modern  English  society. 

What  think  you  of  the  Jew  debate  ?  For  my  own  part,  I 
have  seen  no  really  good  speeches  on  our  side.  Lord  John's 
was  most  valuable  as  repudiating  the  Warburtonian  notion  of 
the  merely  physical  ends  of  a  state ;  I  can  almost  forgive  him 
his  measure  for  that  declaration.  And  then  what  a  noble 
Christian  speech  Gladstone's  is,  fallacious  though  it  be  !  .  .  . 
I  am  glad  that  the  attack  on  the  King's  supremacy  is  foiled, 
but  I  deeply  grieve  that  it  should  be  considered  merely  as  a 
defeat  and  baffling  of  high  Churchmen. 

The  year  1848  was  a  stirring  time  for  all  thoughtful 
men.  For  Hort,  as  for  many  other  minds,  no  doubt, 
it  was  a  very  critical  period ;  his  letters  reflect  the 
excitement  within,  which  was  the  natural  consequence 
of  the  excitement  all  round  him.  And  yet  it  is  evident 
that  he  was  never  carried  off  his  feet.  While  entering 
into  almost  fiery  discussions  on  all  the  controversies  of 
that  seething  year,  he  was  also  quietly  pursuing  his 
course  at  Cambridge,  or  walking  and  botanising  in 
North  Wales  ;  and  there  is  something  almost  ludicrous 
about  the  intrusion  of  the  '  Little-go '  in  the  year  of 
revolutions.  Apparently  he  wrote  for  the  English 
prize  poem  on  *  Baldur,'  and  he  also  competed  for  the 
Hulsean  prize.  In  this  year  too  he  became  a  corre 
sponding  member  of  the  Botanical  Society  of  London, 
and  engaged  in  a  good  deal  of  correspondence  on 



botanical  subjects,  especially  on  the  differentiation  of 
the  species  of  the  genera  Rubi,  Violcs,  and  Ulices ;  in 
the  pursuit  of  this  hobby  he  was  closely  associated 
now,  as  always,  with  C.  C.  Babington. 

It  is  characteristic  of  his  mind  that  he  viewed  all 
the  movements  of  the  time  in  connection  with  theology. 
Theology  must  be  with  him  a  living  reality,  and  he  was 
dissatisfied  with  all  systems  which  did  not  seem  to 
have  a  direct  bearing  on  life.  Hence  he  was  led  to 
seek  firmer  foundations  than  he  could  find  in  the 
Evangelical  position ;  with  all  the  earnestness  which 
inspired  the  teaching  of  the  best  of  that  school,  he 
could  not  discover  the  religious  philosophy  which  he 
desiderated.  In  this  search  for  a  definite  locus  standi 
he  was  attracted  by  the  writings  of  F.  D.  Maurice.  Here 
he  found  a  religious  teacher  who  seemed  to  bring  the 
doctrines  and  sacraments  of  the  Church  into  relation 
with  the  needs  of  individual  and  social  life.  In  Maurice, 
moreover,  there  was  not  that  distrust  of  the  human  reason 
which,  so  far  as  it  characterised  the  '  anti-Liberalism ' 
of  the  Oxford  Movement,  made  it  impossible  for 
Hort  to  be  in  complete  sympathy  with  the  leaders 
of  that  school.  Maurice  was  still  personally  unknown 
to  him,  as  were  all  the  Maurician  set  of  social  reformers. 
The  social  and  political  history  of  this  time  is  familiar 
enough  for  the  allusions  in  the  following  letters  to 
explain  themselves  ;  the  history,  e.g.,  of  the  Hampden 
case  has  been  fully  told  in  Dean  Stanley's  Life ;  in  the 
biographies  of  Maurice  and  Kingsley  an  account  is 
given  of  Politics  for  the  People,  a  remarkable  venture  in 
journalism,  which  lived  for  three  months  in  the  summer 
of  1848.  Though  the  controversies  of  the  period  have 
been  described  more  than  once,  it  has  seemed  worth 
while  to  give  Hort's  comments  on  passing  events  with 


considerable  fulness,  since,  young  as  he  was  at  the  time, 
they  show  what  effect  was  produced  by  these  moving 
incidents  on  a  mind  singularly  sane,  yet  withal  enthusi 
astic.  If  his  enthusiasm  makes  his  language  sound 
occasionally  somewhat  extravagant,  it  is  to  be  remem 
bered  that  this  was  what  he  would  himself  have  called 
the  ( yeasty '  season  of  life  ;  and,  if  he  did  not  on  all 
questions  take  the  view  which  seems  most  in  accord 
with  ' liberal '  principles,  it  is  only  a  proof  of  the 
detachment  from  parties  as  parties  which  was  at  all 
times  noticeable  in  him.  Moreover  in  politics,  and 
especially  in  ecclesiastical  politics,  the  effect  of  the 
reaction  from  early  influences  was  still  powerful. 


CAMBRIDGE,  January  6th,  1848. 

...  On  coming  up  here,  I  find  you  levanted,  and  so  I 
am  left  in  wretched  solitude,  for  there  is  not  a  single  man 
up  whom  I  know  at  all  intimately ;  so  pray  come  hither  and 
read  as  ]  you  intended.  Write  for  'Baldur,'1  if  you  feel  so 
inclined,  or  do  anything  of  that  sort,  but  do  not  be  guilty  of 
the  horrible  treachery  of  leaving  me  any  longer  without  any 
other  company  than  the  excessively  shadowy  and  'question 
able  shapes '  of  Pindar,  Thucydides,  and  Juvenal ;  in  short, 
I  am  vegetating,  and,  if  you  do  not  come  to  my  aid,  a 
vegetable  I  shall  be  all  my  days,  without  hope  of  becoming  an 
animal,  much  less  a  *  human.' 

I  am  gone  clean  distracted  about  this  miserable  Hampden 
affair.  The  only  persons  who  seem  to  have  acted  creditably 
are  the  Bishop  of  Oxford  and  Dean  Merewether.  What  a 
magnificent  letter  his  last  was  to  Lord  John  (mistaken  as  I 
believe  his  opinion  to  be) !  and  then  what  a  gentlemanly, 
not  to  say  Christian,  answer  he  got  written  on  Christmas 
Day !  .  .  .  Hare's  pamphlet  seems  to  me  to  be  quite  a 
floorer  for  all  those  who  babbled  about  Hampden's  '  heresy ' 
1  The  subject  for  the  prize  poem. 


(though  the  Record  does  not  take  notice  of  this  passage, 
which  he  afterwards  only  slightly  modifies  :  "...  I  would 
have  implored  the  minister,  on  my  knees,  if  it  could  have 
been  of  any  avail,  to  recall  what  seemed  to  me  an  act  of 
folly  almost  amounting  to  madness,  of  which  I  have  never 
been  able  to  learn  the  slightest  explanation  or  defense  ").  It 
is  delightful  to  read  him  after  Hampden's  wordy  Protestantism 
or  his  opponents'  wordy  bigotry  of  all  sorts.  I  was  delighted 
the  other  day  by  our  little  Evangelical  curate  telling  me  with 

a   grin    that had    sent    him    a    petition    in    favour    of 

Hampden  to  sign,  with  his  name  attached  in  pencil  along 
with  some  others.  All  the  rest  had  put  '  Yes '  opposite ;  he 
put  NO  in  large  letters.  How  he  must  have  astonished  their 
weak  minds !  I  have  plenty  of  things  to  say,  as,  for  instance, 
about  Tennyson's  Princess^  which  seems  good,  though  absurd. 


CAMBRIDGE,  January  loM,  1848. 

.  .  .  Hampden  is  to  be  'confirmed'  to-morrow.  I  see 
Whately  has  been  asked  by  his  clergy  for  his  opinion  on  the 
subject,  which  he  will  give  in  a  day  or  two.  The  English 
Churchman  has  a  vehement  attack  on  Hare's  pamphlet,  saying 
they  now  know  some  one  else  to  suspect,  '  German  theology,' 
etc.  etc.  Still  I  feel  pretty  sure  Hare  will  be  the  next  bishop, 
from  the  way  that  Lord  John  spoke  of  him ;  and  there  are 
not  many  fitter  for  it. 

The  Princess  is  absurd,  but  I  like  its  absurdity.  It  is  not 
a  high  flight,  but  it  is  a  glorious  poem  for  all  that ;  it  is  anti- 
Mrs.  -  -  and  all  Apostolesses  of  '  Feminine  Regenera 
tion.'  It  gives  an  account  of  an  university  of  women  (the 
Princess  being  the  head),  and  the  moral,  an  excellent  one, 
shows  that  the  rivalry  of  the  sexes  is  absurd,  that  each  has 
its  own  place,  and  each  is  necessary  to  the  other.  I  will  give 
you  one  exquisite  line  as  a  sample  of  its  delicacy  and  beauty — 

upon  the  sward 
She  tapt  her  tiny  silken-sandalled  foot. 

I  have  no  time  for  more. 



CAMBRIDGE,  January  igth,  1848. 

I  have  been  anxiously  expecting  a  note  every  morning  to 
say  that  you  were  coming  up  at  once ;  but  I  will  delay  no 
longer  to  write,  having  far  more  to  say  than  I  shall  have 
either  memory  to  recall  or  time  to  commit  to  paper.  First 
as  to  books,  Sterling  is  out,  but  I  do  not  feel  at  present 
inclined  to  spare  a  guinea  for  it ;  it  is  in  two  foolscap  8vo 
vols.,  of  Daniel-Lambert-obesity,  and  seems  intensely  inter 
esting.  Macmillan  says  that  it  appears  from  the  Life  that 
Sterling  was  an  ardent  admirer  of  Strauss  !  so  that  it  is  bold 
indeed  of  Hare  to  publish  this  Life  just  at  the  time  when  the 
English  Churchman  has  been  calling  himself  a  Rationalist. 
But  though  I  have  not  got  Sterling's  Remains,  I  have  got  his 
Poems,  but  have  not  yet  read  much  of  them.  On  reperusing 
Mirabeau,  I  have  been  still  more  struck  than  before  by  its 
extraordinary  power  and  beauty,  though  I  do  not  quite  under 
stand  it  all.  The  Sainfs  Tragedy  with  Maurice's  preface  is 
also  out.  I  have  read  the  preface,  which  is  excellent,  though 
the  drift  is  rather  odd,  viz.  to  show  what  sort  of  a  drama  a 
clergyman  of  the  present  day  ought  to  write.  The  production 
itself  is  a  five-act  drama,  partly  prose,  partly  verse ;  its  main 
object  being  an  attack  on  some  of  the  later  'Anglo-Catholics' 
about  celibacy  and  'holy  virginity.'  It  is  a  difficult  and 
delicate  subject  to  deal  with,  but  the  interests  of  Christianity 
and  of  the  nation  require  that  the  truth  should  be  spoken  out 
boldly,  and  Kingsley  seems  to  have  done  so  nobly  (though  I 
have  not  read  the  book  itself).  Its  sum  and  substance, 
according  to  Maurice,  is  an  exposition  of  the  actual  struggles 
of  man  between  life  and  death,  such  as  they  really  are,  apart 
from  all  the  'accidents'  of  circumstance  and  opinion.  He 
has  also  dealt  a  manly  blow  at  the  central  lie  of  Calvinism, 
viz.  that  man's  natural  state  is  diabolical ;  in  short,  he  seems 
a  man  quite  after  Maurice's  own  heart,  and,  it  is  to  be  hoped, 
will  prove  a  valuable  ally  to  him  in  the  glorious  war  that  he 
is  waging  against  shams  of  all  descriptions.  Some  one  has 
written  to  the  Examiner  enclosing  copies  of  a  note  to  Carlyle 
requesting  to  know  whether  the  resurrection  of  the  new 



Letters  was  a  merejeu  d?  esprit  or  a  veritable  fact,  and  a  some 
what  surly  rejoinder  from  the  Elucidator,  asserting  that 
whatever  he  put  his  name  to  was  fact ;  which  settles  the 
question.  Query :  How  would  this  rule  apply  to  Herr 
Teufelsdrockh  of  the  Sartor  Resartus?  Macmillan  has 
already  sold  nearly  a  hundred  copies  of  The  Princess,  though 
so  few  men  are  up  ! ! 

And  now  as  to  Hampden,  where  am  I  to  begin,  or  where 
to  end  ?  First  with  a  good  but  singular  piece  of  news  :  the 
Morning  Herald  has  all  of  a  sudden,  without  explanation, 
shifted  sides,  and  came  out  yesterday  with  a  strong  anti- 
Hampden  article.  It  stigmatises  his  appointment  as  "  a  most 
unprecedented  and  wicked  proceeding " ;  abuses  Lord  John 
heartily  for  insulting  the  Church;  accuses  Hampden  of  not 
caring  for  anything  but  his  own  aggrandisement ;  of  meanness 
and  ingratitude  in  writing  such  a  letter  about  the  Bishop  of 
Oxford,  after  his  disinterested  generosity  on  his  behalf.  .  .  . 
It  also  reminds  us  that  we  have  to  guard  the  interests  "  of  the 
Church,  not  of  Lord  John  Russell,  but  of  Christ."  It  is 
gratifying  to  find  that  the  judges  have  allowed  Sir  F.  Kelly  to 
take  a  rule  nisi  for  a  mandamus  to  His  Grace  the  Archbishop 
to  show  cause  why  the  three  clerical  objectors  should  not  be 
heard  in  court  against  the  Bishop  Elect.  His  argument 
seemed  to  me  peculiarly  ingenious  and  good,  that  since  the 
'  court  of  the  Archbishop  or  his  deputy '  was,  as  he  proved, 
in  all  essential  points  a  bonafide  court,  it  was  subject  to  the 
rules  of  courts,  and  consequently  both  parties  had  a  right  to 
be  heard.  I  understand  that  the  question  comes  on  in  the 
Queen's  Bench  on  Saturday.  I  have  not  read  Whately's 
lengthy  defence  of  Lord  John  and  his  protege,  but  the  glance 
I  gave  at  it  did  not  prepossess  me  in  its  favour.  I  am  glad  to 
see,  however,  that  he  is  eager  for  a  convocation  (of  course  to 
include  laymen).  I  might  talk  for  ever  about  this  unhappy 
business,  but  I  will  say  no  more  now  of  it,  unless  anything 
particular  should  occur  to  me. 

Meanwhile  what  a  sad  apathy  there  is  on  the  subject  of 
the  Jews !  The  Chronicle  receives  absurd  letters  in  praise 

I  from  *  Liberal  clergymen,'  and  the  Herald  receives  still  more 
ibsurd  letters  in  opposition  from  '  Christians ' ;  but  the  drift 
VOL.  I  F 


of  them  always  is  a  lamentation  of  how  dreadful  a  thing  it  is 
that  we  should  have  men  who  blaspheme  the  holy  name  of 
Christ,  and  call  Him  an  impostor,  sitting  in  Parliament.  But 
you  might  say  with  quite  as  much  reason,  "  How  dreadful 
that  men  who  do  this  should  be  allowed  to  live  at  all,"  and 
then  proceed  to  exterminate  them.  O  we  are  perishing  for 
want  of  thought !  We  give  and  receive  money,  eat  our  dinners, 
whiz  away  at  sixty  miles  an  hour  on  railways,  drink  in  wisdom 
from  the  daily  press,  go  through  certain  alternations  of  sitting, 
standing,  and  kneeling  for  a  couple  of  hours  once  (or  it  may 
be  twice)  a  week  in  a  particular  building  commonly  called  a 
church,  and  perform  many  functions  of  the  same  kind,  pas 
sively  and  sometimes  quasi  -  actively  with  our  bodies,  but 
always  merely  passively  with  our  minds.  And  this  state  of 
things  is  not  merely  palliated  but  praised  as  good  in  itself. 
I  read  to-day  a  most  singular  article  on  Gladstone  and  his 
Jew  speech  in  the  Daily  News.  They  were  by  no  means 
unfriendly  to  him;  said  that  he  must  have  some  practical 
statesmanlike  qualities,  or  he  never  would  have  risen  to  his 
present  eminence,  but  that  what  spoiled  him  was  a  singular 
habit  of  his,  viz.  that  he  never  seemed  to  do  anything  from 
a  mere  practical  sense  of  *  political  expediency '  (sic),  but 
referred  all  his  actions  to  some  'abstract  and  general  prin 
ciples  ' ;  that  a  statesman  never  had  time  to  think  about 
principles  (and  if  he  had,  they  would  only  perplex  him),  but  that 
his  business  was  to  use  his  sagacity  to  see  what  was  required 
by  the  present  moment.  Would  to  God  we  had  a  few  more 
such  '  unpractical '  statesmen  as  Gladstone  !  Empirics  we  have 
in  abundance,  but  that  men  should  deliberately  wish  that 
empiricism  should  sway  the  destinies  of  man —  —  ! !  ! 

Speaking  of  Gladstone  reminds  me  of  one  of  the  Morning 
Herald's  crotchets.  A  silly  pamphlet  by  a  London  clergyman 
appeared  the  other  day,  recommending  the  enfranchisement 
of  the  Jews,  at  the  same  time  rather  wishing  than  otherwise 
for  the  separation  of  Church  and  State.  On  this  the  Herald 
concocted  an  article,  sagely  attributing  said  pamphlet  to 
Maurice  !  the  extracts  which  I  saw  bearing  about  as  much 
rezemblance  to  Shakespeare's  style  as  to  Maurice's ;  and  to 
think  of  his  writing  such  a  pamphlet ! 



Though  I  proceed  very  slowly  indeed  with  the  Kingdom 
of  Christ,  every  day  seems  to  bring  out  more  clearly  in  my 
mind  the  truth,  beauty,  wisdom,  scripturality,  and  above  all 
unity  of  Maurice's  baptismal  scheme.  It  is  difficult  to  com 
prehend  at  first,  but  it  seems  after  a  while  to  rise  gradually  on 
the  mind  in  its  full  and  perfect  proportions  and  harmony.  I 
love  him  more  and  more  every  day.  I  am  carefully  reading 
Derwent  Coleridge's  Sermons  on  the  Church;  they  are  truly 
excellent  and  beautiful,  though  the  tone  is  occasionally  per 
haps  rather  too  ecclesiastical  instead  of  Catholic. 

The  question  of  the  National  Defences  is  interesting 
enough  since  the  publication  of  the  Duke's  letter;  but  it  is 
said  that  at  least  140,000  militia  and  I  forget  how  many  of 
the  line  are  to  be  raised.  Seriously  I  shall  not  be  surprized 
at  a  war  within  three  months. 


CAMBRIDGE,  February  26th,  1848. 

.  .  .  Our  Town  and  Gown  Rows  have  long  ceased.  The 
magistrates  had  ordered  the  police  never  to  interfere  !  but 
luckily  it  was  suddenly  discovered  or  recollected  that  all 
Heads  of  Houses  are  ex  officio  county  magistrates,  provided 
they  take  the  oaths.  This  the  Vice-Chancellor  did  on  Monday, 
and  instantaneously  called  out  all  the  parish  constables,  and 
made  preparations  for  swearing  in  any  number  of  special 
constables  that  should  be  found  necessary  at  a  moment's 
warning ;  and  it  was  agreed  at  a  meeting  of  the  Heads  of 
Houses  that,  should  these  measures  prove  ineffectual,  they 
would  memorialize  the  Home  Office  on  the  subject  of  the 
magistrates'  strange  and  unwarrantable  order.  But  the  con 
stables  efficiently  kept  the  peace,  no  '  cads '  venturing  into 
the  streets,  and  I  believe  there  has  been  no  row  since. 
There  were  a  few  broken  heads,  but  I  do  not  believe  there 
were  any  very  serious  injuries  received,  though  doubtless 
some  would  soon  have  ensued ;  for  on  the  Saturday  night  it 
was  a  matter  of  pokers  and  life-preservers  on  the  one  side 
and  the  poles  of  the  market  booths  on  the  other.  It  is  well 
the  University  have  checked  the  rows  in  good  time,  for  every 


one  was  talking  of  the  legendary  'Anatomical  Rows,'  when 
the  Senate  issued  orders  to  the  whole  University  to  assemble 
and  defend  the  Anatomical  Schools  from  the  mob  vi  et  armis. 
...  I  have  written  this  letter  as  coolly  and  quietly  as  pos 
sible,  but  the  excitement  both  abroad  and  in  my  own  par 
ticular  cranium  is  not  small  in  consequence  of  this  terrific 
news  from  France.  How  strange  that  Louis  Philippe  should 
twice  have  to  seek  shelter  in  England,  where  I  suppose  he  is 
by  this  time.  Well,  I  hope  he  may  meet  with  a  generous 
reception  in  spite  of  all  his  double-dealing,  provided  always 
that  we  do  not  countenance  him  in  his  iniquities  and 


CAMBRIDGE,  March  loth,  1848. 

...  I  am  getting  well  on  especially  with  mathematics, 
which  I  like  better  the  more  I  read,  as  of  course  is  natural 
when  getting  into  the  higher  subjects  ;  for  instance,  it  was  very 
interesting  to-day  to  solve  the  problem  by  which  Newton  dis 
covered  the  laws  of  the  Solar  System,  and  to  feel  that  though 
apparently  I  had  only  to  deal  with  a  mathematical  figure  of 
lines  and  A's  and  B's  on  paper,  still  that  S  did  really  stand  for 
.Sun,  and  that  '  body  moving  in  an  ellipse '  meant  our  own 
little  lump  of  earth.  You  will  be  sorry  to  hear  that  Tait  has 
been  very  ill  for  some  time  of  rheumatic  fever;  the  last 
account  (two  days  ago)  was  that  it  had  reached  his  heart 
and  he  was  not  expected  to  live.  I  am  most  grieved  about 
it  'for  his  own  sake,  and  as  for  Rugby,  I  know  not  what  will 
be  its  fate.1 


CAMBRIDGE,  March  1848. 

...  I  find  on  inquiry  that  it  will  be  very  desirable  to 
make  arrangements  respecting  reading  in  the  summer  term 
now,  if  I  am  to  go  with  a  party.  Now  at  the  beginning  of  the 
term  Clark  begged  me  to  ask  Budd  whether  he  thought  me 

1  These  fears  were  of  course  not  realised. 


likely  to  be  a  wrangler ;  it  was  an  awkward  question  to  ask, 
but  I  laid  it  on  Clark's  shoulders.  Budd  said  that  at  my 
present  rate,  working  moderately  about  half  at  mathematics, 
if  I  took  up  the  Differential  Calculus,  and  would  read  with  any 
one  in  the  Long  Vacation,  I  was  sure  of  being  a  wrangler.  The 
Differential  I  have  had  in  lecture  this  term,  and  am  now  going 
to  do  some  more  with  Budd,  so  thus  the  case  stands.  I  tell 
you  this  that  you  may  know  the  circumstances  clearly.  This 
would  seem  to  point  to  the  expediency  of  going  in  the  summer 
with  a  party  and  tutor,  unless  there  is  some  reason  against  it. 
.  .  .  It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  a  mistake  to  regard  this 
vacational  reading  merely  as  an  extra-terminal  term,  that  it  is 
vacation ;  while  at  the  same  time  it  is  utterly  absurd  to  do 
as  many  parties  do,  squander  money  on  a  tutor,  and  then 
scarcely  open  a  book  but  amuse  themselves  with  gaiety, 
never-ceasing  excursionising,  or  anything  else  they  like,  the 
whole  time.  This  arises  from  various  causes ;  the  habits  of 
the  tutor,  the  character  and  number  of  the  party,  the  place  of 
abode,  etc.  etc.  The  object  then  is  to  get  a  small  (not  above 
five)  party  of  quiet  reading  men,  who  are  likely  to  go  well 
together ;  a  tutor  likewise  quiet  and  reading,  but  cheerful  and 
one  who  would  enjoy  a  walk  not  merely  as  a  routine  '  consti 
tutional  ' ;  and  lastly,  a  desirable  locality,  the  four  chief  excel 
lencies  being  freedom  from  much  society  (for  it  often  happens 
that  the  neighbourhood  are  hospitable  to  reading  parties), 
freedom  from  other  reading  parties  as  much  as  possible,  cheap 
ness,  and  fine  scenery. 


CAMBRIDGE,  Saturday  night,  April  &th,  1848. 
...  I  have  deferred  writing  till  after  post  hour,  that  I 
might  be  able  to  give  the  result  of  the  Little-go.  I  am  '  ex 
amined  and  approved ' ;  whether  in  the  first  or  second  class  I 
shall  not  know  for  a  week,  but  I  am  pretty  sure  in  the  first. 
.  .  .  Very  few  have  been  plucked  as  yet,  especially  at  Trinity. 
One  of  those  misfortunates  gave  a  somewhat  singular  answer  in 
the  O.  T.  history  ;  one  of  the  questions,  speaking  of  the  plague 
of  locusts  in  Egypt,  asked,  What  became  of  the  locusts? 


he  answered,  "  John  the  Baptist  ate  them."  ...  I  was 
rather  puzzled,  in  inserting  my  name  (in  Latin)  in  the  scholar 
ship  book,  to  know  what  to  put  for  my  native  county  ;  I  wrote 
at  last  *•  Eblancnsis?  but  I  do  not  know  whether  they  will 
understand.  A  friend  of  mine,  born  at  Bombay,  was  still  more 
puzzled.  A  Chartist  meeting  here  did  not  come  off;  the 
cricket-balls  on  Parker's  Piece  were  too  formidable. 


CAMBRIDGE,  April  26th,  1848. 

My  dear  Blunt — Having  obtained  some  further  information 
respecting  the  new  scheme,  I  am  sure  you  will  like  to  hear 
something  about  it.  The  younger  Macmillan  has  been  spend 
ing  some  days  in  London,  and  consequently  had  an  oppor 
tunity  of  getting  two  hours'  conversation  with  Maurice  on 
Good  Friday.  The  publication  is  to  be  a  royal  8vo  double 
column  magazine  (size  of  Penny  Magazine]  weekly,  at  a  penny 
per  week,  to  be  called  Politics  for  the  People ;  the  chief  writers 
to  be  Maurice,  Hare,  Kingsley,  and  Scott,  a  great  friend  of 
Maurice's,  whose  writings  I  do  not  know,  but  they  are  greatly 
praised  by  Macmillan,  and  Ellerton  and  Howard  confirm  the 
character  given  him.  Anybody,  however,  that  likes  may 
write,  subject,  of  course,  to  the  discretion  of  the  editor  (who 
the  editor  is,  Macmillan  does  not  know).  The  tone  of  it  is 
not  to  be,  "  Don't  make  such  a  row,  you  poor  people ;  the 
Charter  and  all  that  sort  of  thing  is  humbug ;  you  don't  know 
anything  about  yourselves ;  let  us  alone,  and  trust  wiser  heads 
than  yours  "  ;  but  rather  to  sympathise  with  all  their  feelings ; 
show  what  are  the  real,  true,  and  good  principles  which  take 
such  absurd  shapes  as  Chartism,  etc.,  contradicting  themselves 
in  struggling  to  express  themselves ;  in  short,  to  speak  as 
working  men — workers  with  brains,  to  working  men — workers 
with  hands.  Everything  is  to  be  anonymous. 

I  have  been  greatly  delighted  to  hear  that  you  approve  of 
Maurice's  chapter  on  Baptism  ;  I  think  you  will  now  thoroughly 
enjoy  his  second  volume,  especially  its  noble  ending.  I 
cannot  say  how  deeply  grieved  I  have  been  by  your  account 
of  poor  Manning,  though  I  have  never  read  a  line  of  his 


writings,  but  should  much  wish  to  do  so.  I  would  only 
hope  there  may  be  some  misapprehension  of  facts ;  all  who 
know  anything  of  him  speak  of  him  in  such  high  and  affectionate 
terms ;  he  would  be  a  loss  indeed.  At  present  Newman  is,  I 
think,  the  only  really  great  captive  whom  Rome  can  boast, 
but  Manning  would  be  a  second.  Doubtless,  if  a  man 
conscientiously  thinks  that  he  ought  to  go  to  Rome,  he  ought, 
but  it  by  no  means  follows  that  he  is  in  no  degree  morally  to 
blame  in  the  process  by  which  his  mind  has  arrived  at  such  a 
result ;  and  I  certainly  think  it  a  most  fearful  thing  to  quit 
the  church  of  one's  baptism,  if  that  church  be  a  church  and 
not  a  mere  sect. 

Master  Humphrey's  Clock  is  an  especial  favourite  of 
mine ;  The  Old  Curiosity  Shop  is  exquisite,  though  perhaps 
more  ideal  than  human;  and  Barnaby  Rudge  is  the  per 
fection  of  a  tale ;  but  I  do  not  think  either  are  in  the  least 
degree  to  be  compared  to  Dombey  and  Son ;  they  are  quite 
unrivalled.  I  have  been  reading  Tancred  at  breakfast  and 
tea ;  it  is  most  eccentric,  but  on  the  whole  striking  and  good. 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  $th,  1848. 

.  .  .  The  first  thing  you  will  wish  to  know  about  is  the 
scholarships.  I  have  not  got  one.  Only  five  of  the  thirteen 
have  been  given  to  our  year,  while  six  were  universally  expected. 
The  successful  candidates  are  Chance,  the  best  classic  of  the 
year,  and  also  an  excellent  mathematician ;  Westlake,  the  second 
or  at  most  third  best  mathematician  of  the  year  at  Trinity,  and 
a  first-class  classic  also,  who  read  both  classics  and  mathe 
matics  with  the  best  'coaches'  at  Cambridge  for  three  years 
before  he  entered  the  University  (these  two  were  always  quite 
certain) ;  Watson,  who  is  universally  set  down  as  Senior 
Wrangler ;  Beamont,  who  is  certainly  among  our  four  best 
classics,  and  is  further  well  read  in  mathematics  (N.B.  He 
reads  eleven  hours  a  day  both  term  and  vacations  alike,  and 
until  this  term,  when  he  went  to  London  for  three  days,  he  had 
not  taken  a  single  holiday  except  Sundays  and  Christmas  Day 
since  last  June  twelvemonth,  except  that  in  last  Easter  vaca- 


tion  he  read  eight  hours  a  day  instead  of  eleven) ;  and  finally 
Bowring,  one  of  our  best  mathematicians  and  a  very  good 
classic  besides.  I  am  afraid  I  have  been  a  little  disappointed, 
for  I  did  so  much  better  in  the  examination  than  I  expected 
that  my  hopes  were  raised,  though  I  did  not  feel  the  least 
certainty  of  success,  and  I  certainly  have  no  reason  to  be  dis 
contented  when  I  see  who  the  successfuls  are.  ...  I  should 
mention  here  that  in  a  talk  which  I  had  with  Thompson 
between  papers  on  Saturday  morning  I  asked  how  I  had  done 
in  the  Craven ;  he  said  that  the  examiners  had  not  taken  parti 
cular  notice  of  any,  but  that  they  mentioned  my  name  among 
twelve  or  fourteen  who  had  struck  them  as  the  best. 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  iqth,  1848. 

.    .    .    With    respect    to 's    scholarship,    I    certainly 

envy  neither  that  nor  any  other  honour  he  may  obtain  by 
such  suicidal  means.  He  evidently  means  to  get  the  Craven 
next  year,  and  to  be  Senior  Classic  the  year  after ;  but  I  do 
not  think  he  is  at  all  certain  of  either  of  these  distinctions, 
which  are  the  highest  objects  of  his  wishes,  and  for  the 
acquisition  of  which  he  now  sacrifices  everything ;  but  two  or 
three,  and  I  hope  myself  among  the  number,  will  run  him 
hard  for  both  without  turning  ourselves  into  Classics-sausages. 

SEGRAVE  VILLA,  CHELTENHAM,  June  2oth,  1848. 

.  .  .  You  will  have  seen  my  unaccountable  good  luck.1  I 
suppose  some  of  my  philosophical  or  St.  Mark  answers  tickled 
the  fancy  of  the  examiners,  for  the  composition  of  the  first 
class  shows  how  completely  mathematics  ruled  the  roast.  .  .  . 

Maurice  on  the  Lord's  Prayer  I  have  just  finished,  and  am 
delighted  with  it  beyond  measure,  especially  with  "  Thy  will 
be  done,"  etc.,  and  the  last  sermon.  I  am  steadily  advancing 
with  Guesses  at  Truth,  second  series,  with,  of  course,  a  not 

1  i.e.   In  the  College  examination. 


very  unequal  pleasure.  The  essays  on  Progression  I  think 
remarkably  wise  and  Christian,  particularly  at  the  end.  I  am 
ashamed  to  say  I  have  not  yet  ordered  last  Saturday's  number 
of  Politics.  I  sent  on  Saturday  a  paper  (without  my  name) 
in  answer  to  Ludlow's  attack  on  Carlyle,  signed  T.C.C.,  but  I 
am  doubtful  whether  they  will  admit  it * ;  its  English  is  detest 
able,  but  possibly  Maurice  may  fancy  it,  as  a  general  '  Help 
.  to  the  Interpretation  of  Carlylese,'  I  wrote  it  at  the  time  when 
I  ought  to  be  in  bed  (as  I  am  now  doing),  and  consequently 
it  is  very  crude  and  imperfect. 

I  have  written,  I  believe,  three  lines  of  the  Hulsean  Essay, 
and  read  scarcely  anything,  but  my  eagerness  to  try  increases 
daily.  I  read  to-day  Simon  Ockley's  Introduction  ;  it  is  amus 
ing  and  sometimes  sensible,  but  his  ideas  on  the  subject  of 
history  are  ludicrous  and  original. 

I  went  yesterday  (Wednesday)  to  the  distribution  of  the 
prizes  at  the  College,  to  see  my  dear  little  pupil  (whom  I 
remember  mentioning  to  you,  and  who  just  missed  a  scholar 
ship  there  in  February)  receive  his  prize.  .  .  .  Dobson,  the 
Principal,  spoke  for  an  hour,  to  my  great  delight ;  no  flattery 
or  talkee-talkee,  but  he  abused  the  parents  for  giving  their 
boys  unauthorized  holidays,  etc.,  in  the  most  capital  style.  He 
evidently  fears  neither  public  nor  board  of  directors,  and  so 
goes  on  well  enough ;  he  then  distributed  the  multitudinous 
prizes,  with  a  suitable  modicum  of  commendation  to  each.  .  .  . 
Dobson  gave  us  not  a  bad  free  version  of 

Coelum  non  animum  mutant,  qui  trans  mare  ciirrimt. 

viz.  Change  of  school 
Won't  mend  a  fool. 

I  was  greatly  amused  by  a  story  that  one  of  my  little 
pupil's  sisters  told  me  of  his  perfect  innocence  of  theological 
factions.  He  came  home  the  other  day,  telling  her  that  a 
boy  had  been  recounting  the  several  occupations  of  his  uncles 
in  London ;  one  uncle  was  a  doctor,  another  was  a  '  Puritan.' 

I  This  puzzled  her,  and  she  asked  him  whether  he  was  sure  of 
the  word  Puritan.     "  Either  that  or  something  like  it !  "     "  Was 
it  '  Puseyite  '  ?  "     "  Oh  yes  !  that  was  the  word  ! " 
1  Apparently  it  was  not  inserted. 



CLIFTON,  July  6th,  1848. 

As  it  happens  that  I  have  some  perfectly  vacant  time  to 
night,  and  a  letter  to  you  is  likely  to  be  a  long  one,  I  com 
mence  one  which  may  possibly  not  be  finisht  for  some  days. 
I  quite  forgot  to  mention  in  my  last  letter  that  on  my  transit 
through  London  I  was  detained  by  want  of  train  some  time, 
and  accordingly  took  the  opportunity  of  paying  the  Exhibition 
a  flying  visit  of  about  an  hour.  On  the  whole  I  was  dis 
appointed.  I  had  scarcely  time  to  look  at  more  than  those 
pictures  which  I  had  heard  particularly  mentioned, — scarcely 
even  those,  and  therefore  you  must  add  a  grain  of  salt  to  my 
judgment.  E.  Landseer's  '  Random  Shot '  is  certainly  a  true 
work  of  genius,  as  much  in  what  is  left  out  as  in  what  is 
painted ;  so  much  is  left  to  be  filled  up  by  the  imagination. 
The  pale  red  light  on  the  snow,  yet  no  sun  visible,  falling 
on  the  sides  of  the  lumps  only,  and  therefore  before  the  sun 
has  risen  any  height ;  a  mere  sloping  piece  of  snow  without 
background,  a  clear,  grey,  transparent  frosty  air,  etc.  The  pair 
from  the  '  Lyra  Innocentium '  delighted  me  most ;  for,  though 
not  works  of  high  genius,  there  was  an  indescribable  air  of 
Raphaelic  soft,  gentle,  calm  beauty  about  them.  If  I  had 
had  time,  I  could  have  gazed  at  them  all  day  long.  Stanfield's 
landscapes  are  fine,  but  their  style  scarcely  admits  high  art. 
There  is  a  queer  one  of  Armitage's,  some  interview  between 
Henry  VIII.  and  Catherine  of  Aragon.  His  jovial  figure 
was  conceived  with  much  fun,  nursing  his  gouty  leg,  and  well 
drawn,  but  it  is  plain  that  this  piece  of  waggery  was  the  only 
thing  in  the  picture  really  felt  by  the  artist.  What  surprised 
me  most  was  the  miserable  execution  of  nine-tenths  of  the 
pictures ;  so  many  were  mere  daubs.  The  sculpture  is 
execrable,  except  'Una  and  the  Lion,'  which  is  more  than 
tolerable.  (Three  cheers  for  Spenser !)  I  was  of  course 
interested  in  the  figures  of  the  young  princes.  The  Prince  of 
Wales  has  a  really  fine  and  intellectual  face.  .  .  .  The  busts 
are  coarsely  and  badly  executed,  and  you  can  scarcely  get 
light  for  any  of  them.  Carlyle's  is  striking,  but  the  engraving 
gives  you  a  far  more  living  idea  of  the  Iconoclast.  The 



Archbishop  of  Canterbury's  is  quite  ideal.  I  never  saw  so 
kind  or  so  stolid  a  face. 

The  day  before  I  left  Cheltenham  I  went  to  the  shop 
where  I  had  ordered  the  Politics.  I  gather  from  some 
thing  in  No.  9  that  it  contains  one  of  Kingsley's  glorious 
letters  J  to  the  Chartists.  I  hope  you  will  have  got  them  by 
this  time  ;  there  are  some  wonderful  things  in  them,  particularly 
Maurice's  address  in  the  last  number,  which,  I  deeply  grieve 
to  say,  announces  the  cessation  of  the  periodical  at  the  end  of 
this  month. 

Of  the  Heresy  Test  agitation  I  have  seen  nothing  except 
the  official  circular  to  which  you  allude,  which  is  one  of  the 
most  dishonest  affairs  I  ever  saw;  one  not  in  the  secret  would 
suppose,  not  that  they  were  abolishing  a  test,  but  setting  up 
one  which  had  been  spurned,  viz.  that  of  the  Articles.  The 
importance  of  the  question  seems  to  me  incalculable.  I  feel 
most  strongly  how  thankful  we  should  be  that  God,  in  His 
care  for  this  branch  of  His  Church,  restrained  the  framers  of 
our  Articles  from  introducing  into  them  those  Calvinistic 
errors  to  which  they  were  themselves  so  much  inclined,  as  is 
indicated  by  several  phrases  in  the  Articles ;  but  the  policy  of 
the  Evangelicals  is  to  have  the  Articles  interpreted  by  the 
other  writings  of  their  human  framers,  and  not  by  the  Antient 
and  Catholic  Symbola  and  Liturgies  which  our  Divine  Chief 
Bishop  has  provided  for  our  safeguard.  This  reminds  me  of 
Hooker,  whose  preface  (and  a  little  more)  I  have  lately  read  with 
much  delight,  and  it  is  wonderful  how  his  description  of  the 
Puritans  of  his  day  fits  on  those  of  ours.  .  .  . 

I  really  do  not  understand  what  you  mean  when  you  expect 
me  to  be  '  surprized  at  many  things  in  your  views.'  What 
your  peculiar  position  is,  I  mean  as  differenced  from  mine  not 
in  degree  only  but  also  in  kind,  I  do  not  know ;  but  perhaps 
you  will  forgive  my  saying  a  few  words  of  the  thoughts  that 
every  event  and  book  confirms  in  my  mind.  For  it  is  impossible 
to  forget  how  important  is  every  event  now  happening,  every 
opinion  now  broached  in  reference  to  the  part  that  you  and  I 
alike,  if  God  spare  us,  will  have  to  play  in  life ;  and  nothing  so 
frequently  engages  my  attention  as  thinking  what  my  theo- 
1  The  letters  signed  «  Parson  Lot.' 


logical  position  must  be.  Now,  looking  at  the  doctrinal 
question,  I  think  we  shall  avoid  much  disquietude  by  laying 
it  down  as  a  preliminary  axiom  that  we  must  not  expect  ever 
to  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  meaning  of  baptism.  One  of  the 
things,  I  think,  which  shows  the  falsity  of  the  Evangelical 
notion  of  this  subject,  is  that  it  is  so  trim  and  precise,  so  totus 
feres  atque  rotundus,  as  Simeon  would  have  exprest  it.  Now  no 
deep  spiritual  truths  of  the  Reason  are  thus  logically  harmonious 
and  systematic,  hence  I  never  expect  to  get  completely  round^ 
to  comprehend,  the  idea  of  baptism.  But  I  believe  we  agree 
in  thinking  that  Maurice's  view,  so  far  as  we  enter  into  it,  is 
the  true  one,  though  I,  at  least, — and  I  should  be  surprized 
were  it  otherwise, — am  still  rather  /;/  nubibus  about  some 
points  relating  to  it ;  chiefly  concerning  the  relation  of  the 
baptized  to  the  unbaptized.  Is  the  Holy  Spirit  given  only  in 
baptism  (I  mean,  of  course,  not  till  baptism),  or  given  before 
but  increased  in  baptism,  or  lastly,  is  it  given  to  every  human 
creature,  and  is  baptism  only  its  seal  and  assurance  ?  This  is 
a  point  on  which  I  should  much  like  to  have  a  long  talk  with 
Maurice  himself. 

But  with  respect  to  what  is  to  be  our  conduct  in  reference 
to  this  question,  which  seems  likely  to  split  our  Church,  I 
think  our  duty  is  plain,  viz.  to  remain  neutral  as  far  as  possible 
— neutral,  I  mean,  as  to  joining  a  party ;  at  the  same  time 
in  language  stating  that  we  maintain  'Baptismal  Regenera 
tion  '  as  the  most  important  of  doctrines,  claiming  for  our 
selves  that  title,  and  letting  the  Romanisers  find  out  the 
difference  between  their  view  and  ours  if  they  will,  but  con 
sidering  that  no  business  of  ours  ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  should 
things  come  to  such  a  pass  that,  as  in  the  war  between 
Charles  I.  and  his  Parliament,  neutrality  is  an  impossibility, 
and  we  must  join  one  party  or  the  other,  I  should  have  no 
hesitation  in  cleaving  at  all  hazards  to  the  Church  for  several 
reasons  :  ist,  .  .  .  almost  all  Anglican  statements  are  a  mixture 
in  various  proportions  of  the  true  and  the  Romish  view ;  2nd, 
the  pure  Romish  view  seems  to  me  nearer,  and  more  likely  to 
lead  to,  the  truth  than  the  Evangelical ;  3rd,  we  should  bear 
in  mind  that  that  hard  and  unspiritual  mediaeval  crust  which 
enveloped  the  doctrine  of  the  sacraments  in  stormy  times, 



though  in  a  measure  it  may  have  made  it  unprofitable  to 
many  men  of  that  time,  yet  in  God's  providence  preserved  it 
inviolate  and  unscattered  for  future  generations  ;  4th,  whatever 
may  be  the  inclinations  of  the  so-called  '  Anglo-Catholics,' 
they  cannot  restore  medievalism ;  the  nineteenth  century 
renders  it  impossible ;  and  further,  the  Bible  then  was  closed, 
but  now,  thanks  to  Luther,  it  is  open,  and  no  power  (unless  it 
be  the  fanaticism  of  the  bibliolaters,  among  whom  reading  so 
many  '  chapters '  seems  exactly  to  correspond  to  the  Romish 
superstition  of  telling  so  many  dozen  beads  on  a  rosary)  can 
close  it  again  ;  a  curious  proof  of  which  is  afforded  by  the  absurd 
manner  in  which  the  '  Anglo-Catholics '  defend,  as  they  think, 
the  Bible  from  'Rationalists';  5th,  to  the  Church,  her  con 
stitution  being  sacramental,  we  must  adhere,  if  we  will  follow 
God's  way  and  not  our  own;  only  in  the  Church  does  He 
promise  all  the  blessings  of  the  New  Covenant.  We  may  have 
to  suffer  the  temporary  loss  of  some  goodly  branches  of 
Christianity,  and  much  of  its  genial  and  spiritual  quality  may 
be  in  part  debarred  us ;  still  we  dare  not  forsake  the  Sacra 
ments,  or  God  will  forsake  us.  Holding  them,  we  hold  the  root 
and  the  trunk,  shorn  for  a  while  of  its  foliage,  perhaps  of  its 
branches,  but  in  due  time  they  will  sprout  forth  again  ;  whereas 
if  we  forsake  the  root  and  trunk  to  embrace  the  foliage,  we 
shall  find  it  wither  before  long,  and  we  shall  be  embarked  on 
a  stormy  sea  of  opinion  without  rudder  or  oar. 

...  I  do  not  feel  quite  so  certain  of  the  truth  of  Arnold's 
view  of  the  Sabbath  as  I  did.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  am  re 
turning  to  the  Judaizing  notion,  but  I  am  inclined  to  regard 
the  Sabbath  as  an  universal  institution  for  mankind,  of  the 
same  kind  as  and  coaetaneous  with  the  universal  institution  of 
marriage.  I  do  not  see  clearly  whether  this  is  Maurice's  view, 
but  I  believe  it  is  not  far  from  it ;  thus  its  central  idea  would 
be  not  abstinence  from  work,  but  rest,  in  accordance  with  the 
words,  "  The  Sabbath  was  made  for  man,  and  not  man  for  the 

I  Sabbath."     Sabbath-breaking  will  then  include  little  else  than 
hindering  Sunday  from  being  a  day  of  rest  to  others. 
...  I  do  not  think  there  is  a  book  more  utterly  free  from 
Manichaeism  than  the  Christian  Year,  nor  can  I  believe  that 
its  author's  mind,  however  narrowed  by  dogmas,  could  ever 


lose  its  genuine  and  healthy  Christian  freshness.  Talking  of 
your  friend  Shields  and  his  carnivora  forsaking  the  butcher 
for  the  greengrocer,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  no  such  state 
as  'Eden'  (I  mean  the  popular  notion)  ever  existed,  and 
that  Adam's  fall  in  no  degree  differed  from  the  fall  of  each  of 
his  descendants,  as  Coleridge  justly  argues  that  in  each 
individual  man  there  must  have  been  a  primal  apostasy  of  the 
will,  or  else  sin  would  not  be  guilty,  but  merely  a  condition  of 

I  have  now  finisht  the  Guesses ;  they  are  mostly  good, 
but  I  have  faults  to  find.  He  should  not  slander  '  Heathen 
virtue,'  etc.,  but  the  pieces  on  Idolatry,  Obscurantism,  In 
dependence,  where,  however,  I  think  he  misunderstands 
Horace,  are  delightful.  I  wrote  anonymously  to  him  a  week 
ago,  pointing  out  to  him  his  apparent  plagiarism  about  the 

Hearing  that  J.  H.  Newman  was  about  to  go  over  to  Rome, 

,  a  perfect  stranger,  sent  him  a  copy  of  some  book  on  the 

errors  of  Popery,  with  a  request  that  he  would  return  it  when 
read,  as  it  was  borrowed  from  a  friend ;  and  also  a  copy  of 
1  my  unanswerable  Essay  on  Romanism ' :  at  the  same  time 
assuring  Newman  that  he  always  maintained  that  it  was  only 
on  the  ground  of  '  Anglo- Catholicism '  that  Popery  could  be 
resisted ;  and  that  he  had  stood  on  that  ground  in  his  well- 
known  controversy  with  some  priests  in  Dublin,  at  which  it 
was  generally  allowed  that  he  stumped  the  priests.  Newman 
sent  him  a  cool,  pithy,  but  proper  answer,  saying  that  as  the 
book  was  borrowed^  he  returned  it  at  once. 

I  hope has  had  enough  of  his  friends  the  Communists 

by  this  time.  What  an  awful  affair  it  has  been  !  The  blood 
shed  is  a  cheap  price  indeed  if  it  have  crushed  that  devilry ; 
but  the  quiet,  individual,  deliberate  assassinations  and  burnings 
show  that  there  is  no  security.  The  utter  ignorance  of  the 
subject  that  I  meet  with  surprizes  me.  The  whole  is  looked 
upon  as  a  sort  of  violent  and  extreme  Radicalism  or  Re 
publicanism  ;  they  use  '  Socialist '  and  '  Communist '  in 
differently,  and  there  seems  not  the  smallest  insight  into 
the  deep  and  turbid  feelings  of  the  age.  What  disgusts  me 
most  is  the  sneers  that  qualify  every  expression  of  praise  of 

AGE  20         CAMBRIDGE  : 



Lamartine.  "  Oh  !  he's  a  poet  /  a  man  of  imagination  and 
enthusiasm,  a  dreamer !  with  a  good  deal  of  the  sentiment  of 
religion  !  how  can  a  poet  be  a  statesman  ?  "  Bah  !  the  utter 
ignorance  of  poetry  and  art  that  seems  universal !  Truth  to 
say,  however,  I  have  not  quite  so  high  an  opinion  of  Lamartine 
as  I  had,  though  I  never  can  forget  the  noble  stand  he  took 
in  defence  of  law  at  the  dangerous  and  critical  moment  of 
the  first  outbreak. 

I  am  getting  on  very  slowly  with  my  essay.  I  fancy  it  will 
startle  the  Examiners  a  little — I  mean  of  course  by  its  novel 
style  and  mode  of  treating  the  subject,  not  by  its  merits. 
Here  I  have  written  a  tremendous  letter  all  about  myself  and 
my  own  doings,  and  I  hope  you  will  do  the  same ;  for,  though 
I  am  afraid  I  have  thought  more  of  what  I  wisht  to  say  than 
what  you  would  like  to  hear,  it  is  just  all  that  you  have  to  say 
on  any  or  all  of  these  or  other  subjects,  that  is  what  I  most 
want  to  get  from  you.  Since  writing  the  above  I  have  been 
down  in  Bristol  looking  at  some  of  the  churches.  The 
Cathedral  is  very  poor,  in  the  Transition  style  from  Decorated 
English  to  Perpendicular,  but  bad  of  both.  There  is,  how 
ever,  a  very  beautiful  Norman  gateway  in  the  close. 


BRYN  HYFRYD,  DOLGELLY,  August  gtk,  1848. 
[Finished  August 

I  am  at  last  endeavouring  to  begin  an  answer  to  your  most 
delightful  letter.  ...  I  had  a  beautiful  passage  to  Ilfracombe, 
and  the  sail  from  Linton  to  that  place  close  in  shore  by  moon 
light  was  most  enjoyable.  I  had  a  very  pleasant  three  weeks 
at  Ilfracombe,  and  botanised  extensively,  especially  at  sea-weeds. 
It  is  a  curious  country  ;  most  of  the  hills  themselves  are  ugly 
and  tame,  but  they  are  intersected  by  beautiful  wooded 
1  coombes  '  or  vallies.  At  Ilfracombe  itself  there  is  a  great 
contortion  of  the  strata,  which  makes  the  hills  much  broken, 
especially  on  the  sea  -shore,  where  the  rocks  are  very  fine. 
The  Old  Red  Sandstone  is  there  represented  by  a  sort  of  soft, 
very  fissile  slate. 


You  will  be  curious  to  hear  of  the  church.  We  went  to 
the  parish  church.  The  service  was  excellently  performed 
(not  chorally),  the  choir  consisting  of  nine  girls  from  the 
schools  in  white  caps  and  tippets,  who  were  beautifully 
trained,  but  deeper  and  fuller  tones  were  wanted ;  the  chants 
were  mostly  Gregorian,  and  I  got  to  like  them  exceedingly. 
The  sermons  are  a  great  deal  quieter  than  they  were  four  years 
ago.  One  man  whose  face  struck  me  much,  preached  twice : 
.  .  .  He  seemed  really  to  feel  the  Church  and  the  Sacraments 
to  be  Divine,  and  not  mere  amulets,  or  things ^to  be  talked  big 
about.  The  last  Sunday  I  was  there  I  heard  the  Bishop  of 
Fredericton  preach  for  his  new  Cathedral,  and  was  exceed 
ingly  pleased.  There  was  nothing  very  striking  in  the  sermon, 
which  was,  however,  sensible,  moderate,  and  good;  but  his 
earnest,  gentle  manner  quite  won  me  to  love  him. 

I  left  Ilfracombe  this  day  week  by  coach  to  Barnstaple ; 
thence  also  by  coach  to  Tiverton,  and  thence  by  rail  to 
Taunton,  .  .  .  and  went  up  into  the  town  to  see  the  churches. 
St.  Mary's  is  perfectly  magnificent.  It  is  early  Perpendicular, 
and  has  a  grand  lofty  tower  of  six  or  seven  stories.  It  has 
been  lately  fully  restored,  and  so  I  had  to  pay  sixpence  ad 
mission,  much  to  my  disgust  at  the  imitation  of  St.  Paul's. 
It  is  very  large,  but  naviform,  and  has  no  gallery  but  a  small 
one  at  the  west  end  for  the  organ.  The  columns  are  light  and 
exquisite,  the  capitals  being  an  angel-bust  holding  a  shield ; 
the  roof  is  of  the  finest  wood-carving,  and  the  sittings  are  a 
sort  of  open  wide  seats.  There  are  some  good  new  stained- 
glass  windows,  and  a  fine  font  with  a  most  magnificent  cover 
to  it.  I  think  it  would  be  perfect  in  its  kind,  but  for  the 
polychrome  which  covers  almost  every  place  ;  yet  so  exquisitely 
has  it  been  managed  that  you  do  not  perceive  the  gaudiness 
till  you  examine  the  parts  in  detail.  .  .  . 

After  seeing  the  churches,  I  met  Chambers  by  appoint 
ment  at  the  station,  and  again  railed  to  Bristol.  Here  we 
ran  to  give  him  a  peep  at  St.  Mary's  RedclifTe.  .  .  .  We 
started  by  the  mail  at  a  quarter  past  2  A.M.,  reached  Here 
ford  about  6,  after  seeing  the  sun  rise  beautifully  over 
Malvern,  and  then  ran  to  peep  at  the  Cathedral.  It  is  neither 
large  nor  rich,  but  a  noble,  simple  Early  English  building  (with 

AGE  20 



some  Perpendicular  windows),  and  Dean  Merewether  seems 
restoring  it  in  the  best  possible  taste.  Thence  for  a  long  way 
over  the  rich  undulating  plain  of  veritable  Old  Red  Sandstone 
to  Kington,  where  we  entered  Wales. 

Thence  we  wound  up  through  hills  of  slate,  some  pretty, 
others  not,  passing  one  exquisite  spot,  the  vale  and  inn 
of  Pen-y-bont,  to  Rhayader.  Here  the  scenery  became  wilder 
and  more  mountainous,  and  gradually  we  ascended  to  a  most 
bleak  and  dismal  region  on  the  shoulder  of  Plinlimmon,  a 
mere  bog-dumpling,  whose  head  did  not  appear.  Thence 
we  drove  rapidly  down,  obtaining  most  glorious  views,  to 
Aberystwith,  which  we  reached  at  4  P.M.  We  strolled  on  the 
beach  in  the  evening  and  picked  up  pebbles,  and  then  went  to 

At  half-past  7  A.M.  we  again  mounted  the  coach,  and  after 
winding  over  and  among  some  fine  hills,  on  surmounting  one 
ridge,  we  came  upon  a  sight  which  I  shall  never  forget. 
Below  us  was  a  rich  hill  with  a  mixture  of  grassy  hollows, 
woods,  and  thickets  sloping  down  to  the  noble  estuary  of  the 
Dyfi  (or  Dovey),  the  tide  being  fully  in ;  and  on  the  opposite 
shore,  just  where  the  narrow  lake  opened  into  the  blue  sea, 
lay  the  village  of  Aberdyfi,  the  scene  of  the  earlier  part  of  the 
first  story  of  the  Shadows  of  the  Clouds?-  It  was  at  the 
base  of  high  hills  soon  rising  into  high  mountains,  swelling 
with  knolls  of  all  colours,  some  a  rich  purple  with  heath, 
others  a  dun  yellow  with  furze,  others  all  tints  of  green, 
and,  as  if  to  complete  the  whole,  the  light  white  clouds  hid 
the  sunshine  from  innumerable  spots  on  the  hills,  and  their 
'shadows'  were  ever  shifting  and  changing  the  wondrous 
beauty  of  the  view.  This  was  at  ten  on  a  bright  August 
morning,  when  everything  lookt  fresh  and  joyous.  I  cannot 
describe  my  feelings  at  the  sight,  which  probably  on  that  very 
spot  suggested  the  title  of  that  wonderful  book — perhaps  had 
no  small  share  in  exciting  the  thoughts  which  there  find 
expression.  I  do  not  think  the  most  bigoted  of  the  orthodox 
could  feel  any  bitterness  against  the  poor  doubter  there.  It 
seemed  as  if  it  were  not  one  Oxford  student's  questionings 

I '•hat  came  before  me,  but  the  groans  and  cries  of  a  distracted 
1  By  J.  A.  Froude. 
VOL.  I  G 



world.  All  the  seething  abysses  of  humanity,  growing  ever 
hotter  as  centuries  flew  by,  seemed  boiling  over  in  a 
wild  negation,  emptying  the  world  of  its  life  yet  pleading 
for  living  beings,  bursting  in  its  phrensy  many  heart-threads, 
yet  checkt  and  pulled  aside  by  others  more  fully  instinct 
with  the  life  of  God.  And  then  all  this  misery  and  madness 
was  so  real  and  well  grounded.  I,  '  the  heir  of  all  the  ages,' 
inherited,  as  part  of  the  awful  legacy,  the  accumulation  and 
culmination  of  all  they  had  of  dark  and  horrible,  and  it  ever 
went  with  me,  casting  its  shadow  on  me,  and  threatening 
itself  to  crush  me.  And  then  the  72nd  Psalm  rang  through 
my  ears,  and  the  calm  sea  reflecting  the  sky  and  the  solid 
mountains  seemed  to  confirm  its  words,  and  I  felt  that  all  the 
beauty  before  me  was  owing  to  the  sun,  and  the  shadows  on 
the  mountains  were  cast  by  their  own  earthy  exhalations, 
while  he  kept  his  steady  course  unchanging  above.  I  am 
afraid  all  this  sounds  absurd  enough  on  paper;  but  the 
Shadows  of  the  Clouds  made  an  impression  on  me  of  a  sort 
that  no  other  book  ever  did,  and  the  scene,  so  glorious  in  itself, 
and  entwined  with  such  associations,  might  well  move  me 
more  than  ordinary  views. 

To  continue  my  narrative :  we  soon  reached  Machynlleth, 
pretty  and  no  more ;  and  then  drove  through  some  beautiful 
vallies,  till  at  the  end  of  one  of  them  part  of  Cader  Idris 
appeared.  We  descended  into  the  long  straight  valley  of  Tal- 
y-Llyn,  barren  and  rugged,  which  runs  along  his  back  ;  walked 
up  it,  and  then  rounding  the  end  of  Cader,  came  upon  a 
beautiful  view  of  the  rich  valley  of  Dolgelly,  with  mountains  of 
moderate  height  on  the  other  side.  We  reacht  the  town  at 
half-past  one.  Mathison,  Mackenzie,  and  Gill  came  three  or 
four  hours  afterwards  from  Chester  by  Rhuabon  and  Bala. 
We  have  a  most  excellent  house  just  outside  the  town — on, 
in  fact,  the  base  of  Cader  Idris,  though  he  is  too  near  to  be 

We  have  now  (August  2oth,  I  am  ashamed  to  say)  had 
many  glorious  walks,  as  to  the  waterfalls  of  Rhaiadr  Du,  etc., 
and  the  tops  of  various  mountains,  including  of  course  Cader 
Idris,  which  has  some  noble  precipices.  We  read  very  toler 
ably,  about  five  hours  a  day  :  I  botanise  considerably,  and  we 


are  seldom  less  than  six  hours  on  a  walk.  Our  costumes  are, 
of  course,  peculiar.  I,  for  instance,  appear  in  a  shooting- 
jacket  with  a  shepherd's  plaid  over  my  shoulders,  a  wide 
awake  on  my  head,  a  large  vasculum  on  my  back,  and  a  stout 
stick  in  my  hand ;  to  say  nothing  of  knives,  small  vasculum, 
hammers,  etc.,  in  pockets;  but  I  get  mighty  little  time  for 
private  reading  or  writing.  We  leave  this  on  Thursday  week, 
and  we  have  strong  hopes  of  getting  a  house  at  Llanberis 
for  the  remaining  fortnight,  when  we  shall  inspect  Snowdon 

The  church  here  is  a  singular  building ;  the  guides  call  it 
"a  neat  structure  in  the  Greek  style  of  architecture."  This 
sketch  will  give  you  an  idea  of  the  windows,  but  at  a  distance 
the  effect  is  not  bad.  The  inside  is  most  rough  and  slovenly : 
coarse  open  seats  like  forms  with  backs  to  them,  rude  gallery 
with  an  arch  of  this  shape,  etc.  The  morning  service  and 
sermon  are  in  Welsh.  We  always  attend,  and  in  fact  can 
take  almost  as  good  a  part  in  the  service  as  in  England.  It 
not  only  made  one  bless  God  for  an  uniform  Liturgy  in  which 
all  might  join  of  different  tongues,  realising  the  Romish  idea 
of  universal  Latin  prayers,  but  seemed  to  give  a  substantial 
reality  and  meaning  to  Catholicity ;  it  was  truly  the  Catholic, 
the  universal  Church,  offering  up  united  prayers,  overleaping 
the  bounds  of  race  and  tongue,  asserting  one  Lord,  one  faith, 
one  baptism. 

I  send  you  the  Politics,  for  I  am  sure  you  must  long  for 
them.  Maurice's  Confessions  of  William  Milward^  contain 
treasures  of  practical  instruction  both  for  our  own  hearts  and 
our  conduct  to  others.  I  know  no  tale  to  compare  to  them 
for  divine  unconscious  humanity ;  words  cannot  express  the 
depth  of  my  obligations  to  them ;  verily  God's  Laws  are 
mightier  than  theories.  The  magnificent  Letters  to  Land 
lords  must  be  Kingsley's;  no  one  else  could  write  them. 
They  convey  the  true  ideal  of  English  character.  You  will  see 
that  the  last  few  numbers  are  almost  exclusively  addrest  to 
the  upper  classes.  There  are  some  invaluable  articles  of 
Maurice's  on  Education,  especially  in  Nos.  14,  15;  the  former 
has  a  most  pregnant  article  on  the  Colonies.  In  another  year 
1  A  story  published  in  supplementary  numbers  of  the  Politics. 


men  will  be  compelled  to  see  the  gigantic  importance  of  the 
question.  I  have  got  the  plan  of  the  colony  of  Canterbury, 
but  not  yet  finisht  reading  it.  Also  a  singular  but  pithy 
Dialogue  by  W.  S.  Landor  on  Italy.  .  .  . 

I  quite  agree  with  you  that  Lord  Ashley  is  a  noble  fellow 
when  he  rises  above  his  coneyism,  but  I  am  very  suspicious 
of  his  Ragged  School  Emigration  scheme;  surely  we  have 
enough  colonies  already  visited  with  God's  curse  for  being 
composed  of  the  dregs  of  society.  I  can't  make  out  from 
Maurice's  article  what  he  thinks  about  it. 

There  are  three  most  interesting  things  in  yesterday's 
paper  in  the  debates,  ist,  A  short,  wise,  temperate  speech 
of  Gladstone's  on  the  Education  quarrel  between  Government 
and  the  National  Society,  in  which  he  by  no  means  rejects 
lay  management,  only  complaining  of  the  want  of  interest 
shown  by  laymen.  Lord  John  thanked  him  heartily  for  his 
speech,  and  said  that  the  quarrel  was  all  but  settled.  2nd, 
Gladstone  made  a  long  speech,  universally  applauded,  on 
Lord  Grey's  mismanagement  of  Vancouver's  Island,  which 
will  soon  be  among  our  most  important  colonies.  3rd,  The 
money  voted  for  the  Professorships  at  the  Universities,  which, 
of  course,  involved  an  attack  on  both  Professorships  and 
Universities.  Goulburn  ably  defended  both ;  and  Lord  John 
said,  in  reference  to  the  petition  for  the  admission  of  Dis 
senters  to  degrees  at  Cambridge,  that  his  idea  was  to  make 
us  give  them  certificates  of  examination  (the  three  and  a 
quarter's  years  course  they  have  now)  when  they  had  been 
examined  as  if  for  our  degrees,  but  make  the  London  Uni 
versity  confer  the  degrees.  Gladstone  again  made  a  most 
beautiful,  short,  sensible  speech,  testifying  that  at  Oxford  the 
colleges  were  daily  becoming  more  efficacious,  real  living 
bodies,  and  thanking  Lord  John  warmly  for  his  wise,  practical 
views  and  intentions. 

I  have  not  time  now  to  talk  of  ...  so  will  pass  on.  Nor 
indeed  of  the  Sabbath;  only  observing  that  in  my  idea 
'Sabbath-neglecting'  would  be  the  mischief,  and  'Sabbath- 
breaking  '  mean  simply  nothing. 

I  have  just  read  through  The  Princess  again  with  the 
utmost  delight;  I  do  not  know  whether  its  wisdom  or  its 


beauty  predominates.  I  am  still,  however,  in  the  dark  as 
to  the  meaning  of  one  of  the  Idyls,  that  beginning — 

Now  sleeps  the  crimson  petal,  now  the  white. 

I  utterly  and  entirely  recant  the  slanders  I  formerly  uttered 
against  its  purity ;  The  Sainfs  Tragedy  has  taught  me  truer 
ideas.  By  the  way,  I  have  also  just  read  that  book  again, 
and  of  course  likewise  with  redoubled  pleasure  and,  I  hope, 
more  than  pleasure ;  somehow  or  other  much  of  its  manifold 
meaning  must  have  escaped  me  on  the  first  perusal.  I  had 
been  thinking  for  some  weeks  on  one  of  the  mysterious  sub 
jects  which  it  handles  gently  but  resolutely ;  I  scarcely  know 
what  suggested  it  to  me — I  believe  a  remarkable  passage  in 
the  first  Guesses.  I  had  much  inward  debating,  but  at  last  I 
came  to  the  conclusion  which,  to  my  great  delight,  I  have 
since  found  The  Sainfs  Tragedy  teaches. 

But  I  must  now  (August  25th)  return  to  your  kind  com 
ments  on  my  scrap  of  Essay,1  which  I  have  long  received.  I 
agree  in  the  main  with  your  observations,  tho'  I  am  not  in 
clined  to  adopt  all  your  alterations.  ...  To  tell  the  truth,  as, 
whether  successful  or  unsuccessful,  I  can  of  course  write  only 
for  the  former  alternative,  I  am  not  without  hopes  in  that  case 
of  effecting  something  in  poor  Oxford,  which,  I  forgot  to  tell 
you,  is  now,  I  hear  on  good  authority,  overrun  with  earnest 
disciples  of  Froude  and  George  Sand;  especially  a  knot  of 
Rugby  men.  Tennyson  I  will  think  about,  but  I  am  loth  to 
leave  him  out ;  he  explains  so  well  what  I  mean,  and  is  useful 
collaterally  by  showing  that  I  am  not  transcribing  cut-and-dry 
notions  from  Maurice  or  elsewhere,  but  mean  what  I  say, 
and  am  able  to  recognize  the  same  idea  under  dissimilar  forms. 
Manichaeism  is  very  delicate  ground,  though  possibly  I  may  do  as 
you  suggest ;  but  I  am  afraid  not  only  of  seeming  MavpiKifcw, 
but  of  marring  all  by  what  must  be  in  fact  a  general  attack  on 
the  whole  religious  world  of  all  parties.  I  have  written  very 
little  more,  being  hard  up  for  time  here,  but  will  send  when  I 
have  a  decent  scrap.  There  is  no  limit  to  the  length,  but  in  my 

>e  the  difficulty  will  be  to  write  long  enough  from  want  of  time; 

cannot  help  my  introduction  being  disproportionate.  .  .  . 

1  For  the  Hulsean  prize. 


I  saw  an  extract  from  the  article  that  you  mention ;  it 
spoke  of  a  High  Church  feeling,  even  when  '  Tractarianism 
proper '  is  on  the  wane,  gaining  ground  in  both  Universities. 
I  believe  it  is  true,  and  we  may  well  thank  God  for  it ;  we 
need  it  much.  Politics  drive  me  mad,  when  I  think  of  them. 
Ireland  I  expect  every  moment  to  break  out  afresh,  not  per 
haps  in  civil  war  but  in  endless  skirmishing  and  bloodshed, 
and  it  seems  'the  spirit  of  the  age'  will  not  hang  traitors. 
The  Chartists  in  London  have,  I  suppose  you  know,  been 
found  to  be  solemnly  leagued  with  the  French  Communists, 
and  the  same  confederation  extends  through  Europe.  We 
shall  have  a  bloody  winter  in  the  provinces,  perhaps  in 
London.  O  that  Gladstone  or  even  Peel  were  in  !  Italy  is 
vexatious  indeed;  I  suppose  her  time  is  not  yet  come,  but 
injustice  and  robbery  shall  not  always  prevail,  however 
Disraeli  may  sneer  at  'the  sentimental  principle  of  nation 
ality  ' — that's  because  the  Italians  are  not  Jews. 

.  .  .  But  it  has  struck  2  A.M.,  so  good  night  or  morning, 
which  you  please. 


DOLGELLY,  August  l6tk,    1848. 

...  On  Sundays  we  have  attended  the  Welsh  service  in 
the  morning,  which  we  could  easily  follow,  and  the  English  in 
the  afternoon.  As  there  are  four  services  in  the  day,  the 
English  sermon  generally  falls  to  some  clergyman  passing 
through,  and  they  do  not  always  fare  well  in  consequence ; 
for  instance,  ten  days  ago  an  old  canon  of  Manchester  who 
preached  recommended  us  to  keep  regularly  a  journal  for 
entering  all  our  good  and  all  our  bad  actions,  and  to  take 
care  to  keep  the  balance  on  the  side  of  the  former,  as  we 
should  then  feel  very  comfortable  on  our  death-beds  !  ! 


PLYMOUTH,  September  2$th,  1848. 

I  presume  from  your  silence  that  you  are  waiting  for  a 
fresh  instalment  of  my  unhappy  Essay.  .  .  . 


I  spent  a  very  pleasant  month  at  Dolgelly,  and  a  still 
more  pleasant  fortnight  at  Llanberis,  right  at  the  foot  of 
Snowdon ;  C.  C.  Babington  was  there  for  two  or  three  days, 
and  I  had  some  very  enjoyable  botanical  expeditions  with 
him.  But  I  have  no  time  to  say  more  than  that,  after 
scrambling  about  crags  and  precipices  to  my  heart's  content, 
I  left  Llanberis  last  Monday,  went  to  Bangor,  Menai  Bridge, 
Britannia  Bridge,  Beaumaris,  Bangor,  and  Conway,  and  came 
on  by  a  night  train  to  Plymouth,  where  my  family  have  been 
nearly  a  fortnight.  It  is  an  interesting  place,  but  I  cannot 
stop  to  talk  about  it.  I  hope  to  enjoy  the  neighbourhood  of 
Torquay.  .  .  . 

I  have  just  got  Henry  of  Exeter's  August  Charge,  as  well 
as  Archdeacon  Manning's.  The  first  I  have  read  with  much 
satisfaction ;  probably  I  should  not  agree  with  all  he  says, 
but  his  defence  of  the  Prayer-book  and  his  utter  demoli 
tion  of  are  truly  magnificent.  Manning's  I  have  only 

glanced  at;  it  is  chiefly  on  the  Hampden  case,  and  seems 
written  in  quite  the  right  spirit,  and  promises  to  be  invalu 
able.  I  never  read  anything  more  beautiful  than  some  of 
the  passages. 


TORQUAY,  October  2nd,  1848. 

This  is  a  most  beautiful  spot,  and  the  air  (on  the  hills) 
far  less  relaxing  than  I  expected ;  the  verdure  is  of  the  richest 
green,  and  the  view  of  Torbay  through  the  wooded  villose 
hills  is  exquisite.  At  the  back  we  have  within  a  mile  or  two 
noble  limestone  and  marble  cliffs,  and  then  the  beautiful  forms 
into  which  the  sea  wears  the  New  Red  Sandstone,  with  the 
coast  trending  away  by  Teignmouth  and  Exmouth  down  to 
the  Bill  of  Portland,  which  is  visible  in  very  clear  weather. 
Henry  of  Exeter's  villa,  Bishopstowe,  commands  the  most 
beautiful  spot  of  the  whole. 

I  never  was  in  such  a  state  of  mental  and  spiritual 
lethargy,  broken  only  momentarily  by  occasional  circum- 


stances,  as  in  Wales,  and  for  a  fortnight  before  I  went 
there.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  did  not  think  and  ponder, 
doubt  and  believe,  jactabam  et  jactabar — I  might  as  easily 
live  without  meat  and  drink — but  all  the  grand  scenery  did 
not  move  me  as  it  should  have  done ;  and  the  utmost  effect 
was  to  make  me  separate  once  or  twice  from  the  party,  get 
close  down  to  a  waterfall,  and  chant  some  Psalm  at  the  top  of 
my  voice  into  the  midst  of  the  roar — a  singular  employment 
truly.  Nor  am  I  much  better  now,  nor  expect  to  be  till  I 
hear  Trinity  organ  again,  and  am  able  to  open  my  mouth  on 
the  subject  of  subjects. 

I  am  more  and  more  drinking  in  Maurice's  Lord's  Prayer. 
I  will  go  so  far  as  to  say  that,  except  the  Kingdom  of  Christ ', 
there  is  not  a  theological  book  in  English  to  equal  it ;  but  it 
is  very  hard  to  get  imbued  with  it.  There  are,  however, 
some  inestimable  sermons  in  the  other  volume,1  particularly 
a  Lent  series  on  our  Lord's  temptation.  It  is  such  a  plea 
sure  to  dwell  on  them  that  I  must  give  you  a  bit  that  is 
mighty  indeed  against  the  worst  and  the  most  unceasing  of 
temptations,  viz.  to  deny  our  baptism.  .  .  . 

[Then  follow  two  quotations  from  Christmas  Day  and  other  Sermons, 
from  Sermon  xii.  pp.  167,  1 68,  and  from  Sermon  xiii.  pp.  181,  182.] 

I  think  the  Canterbury  scheme  admirable,  and  wish  it  all 
success.  With  regard  to  what  you  say  about  joining  it,  the 
thought  has  more  than  once  flitted  across  my  mind.  I  am 
afraid  that,  at  all  events,  a  selfish  attachment  to  home  would 
keep  me  here,  to  say  nothing  of  unselfish  attachment.  I 
cannot  bear  the  idea  of  being  separated  from  the  fortunes 
of  our  own  ancestral  Church  and  'not  yet  enslaved,  not 
wholly  vile '  England.  But  more  than  this,  I  am  sure  Maurice 
is  right  in  dwelling  so  strongly  on  the  sin  of  choosing  our 
own  circumstances  instead  of  following  God's  course  :  now 
our  whole  bent  and  purpose  has  been  to  labour  in  the  English 
Church,  and  without  some  distinct  call  from  God,  I  do  not 
see  what  right  we  have  to  abandon  it. 

1  Christmas  Day  and  other  Sermons,  1st  ed.  1843. 



CAMBRIDGE,  November  17 'th,  1848. 

.  Jenny  Lind  is,  I  believe,  to  be  here  on  the  25th;  at 
least  there  is  some  negotiation  pending  touching  the  Union 
room  for  her,  as  they  say  it  will  hold  eight  hundred.  A  more 
successful  attempt  than  usual  has  been  made  this  year  to  get 
up  a  football  club,  which  I  have  joined,  as  it  will  relieve  the 
dull  monotony  of  Cambridge  walks.  I  was  last  night  sum 
moned  suddenly  to  a  meeting  of  delegates  from  various  schools, 
to  draw  up  a  code  of  laws,  effecting  a  compromise  between 
the  Eton  and  Rugby  systems,  which  are  totally  different.  This 
kept  me  till  late,  and  I  forgot  that  it  was  my  day  for  writing, 
so  that  I  am  sorry  to  say  this  is  Friday.  .  .  .  You  ask  after 
my  brambles  :  the  few  which  I  felt  sure  I  had  named  rightly, 
were  so ;  those  I  had  guessed  at  vaguely  were  mostly  wrong. 
Some  gave  Babington  a  good  deal  of  trouble  to  discriminate, 
being  gathered  late  in  the  year,  when  they  were  no  longer  in 
perfection.  I  had  got  hold  of  several  good  ones,  and  he 
accepted  of  several  (I  had  dried  duplicates  of  many)  as  useful 
additions  to  his  herbarium ;  one  in  particular,  which  I  found 
the  day  I  walked  towards  Teignmouth,  was  the  only  English 
specimen  he  had  ever  seen  answering  to  the  figure  and  descrip 
tion  of  a  German  bramble  (at  least  only  very  unlike  varieties 
of  it  had  been  found  in  England).  I  had  but  the  one  speci 
men,  but  it  was  of  more  consequence  to  him  than  me.  The 
great  long-branched  thing  was,  as  I  supposed,  an  odd  form  of 
a  common  sort.  Curiously  enough,  the  beautiful  bramble 
which  filled  the  wood  at  Berry  Pomeroy  Castle,  and  which  I 
also  found  on  the  way  to  Anstis  Cove,  was  another  form  of 
the  plant  I  mentioned  last  but  one,  and  was  quite  strange  to 
Babington,  though  he  said  he  felt  sure  that  I  had  done  right 
in  referring  it  to  that  species.  He  has  asked  me,  when  I  have 
full  leisure  (for  he  is  most  careful  and  anxious  not  to  interfere 
with  my  regular  work),  to  write  him  out  a  list  of  those  I  found, 
with  their  localities.  Reckoning  up  roughly,  I  find  that,  in 
cluding  recognised  'varieties,'  I  obtained  this  summer  ten 
brambles  at  Llanberis,  and  sixteen  at  Plymouth  and  Torquay, 
which,  I  think,  is  pretty  well  for  a  beginning.  I  will  now  con- 


elude,  as  I  am  in  the  midst  of  a  high-flown  panegyric  on  '  our 
good  Edmund,'  which  has  to  be  given  in  to-morrow  night,  and 
the  greater  part  of  which  is  as  yet  unwritten. 


December  igth,  1848. 

...  I  own  I  have  been  much  annoyed  about  the  Hulsean  : 
not  that  I  had  any  right  to  expect  it  from  the  literary,  annota- 
tory,  and  other  merit  which  generally  decides  such  matters  in 
Cambridge  University.  But  I  do  believe  mine  had  some 
rough  life  in  it,  not  altogether  useless  for  the  times. 

What  lots  of  'historical'  debates  at  the  Union  we  who 
remain  shall  witness  next  year  !  I  groan  at  the  thought ;  only 
I  promise  myself  the  luxury  of  endless  denuntiation  (to  be 
received  with  the  additional  luxury  of  endless  groaning)  of  the 
wretched  impostor,1  calling  himself  a  historian. 


CHELTENHAM,  December  2gth,  1848. 

.  .  .  What  is  to  become  of  Ireland  ?  Of  course  you  have 
read  the  deeply  interesting  letters  of  Lords  Sligo  and  West- 
meath  in  the  Times.  A  letter  has  to-day  reacht  some  rela 
tions  of  mine  here  from  one  of  their  family  who  is  married  to 
the  clergyman  of  a  parish  near  Skibbereen,  which  says  that  an 
order  has  just  come  down  from  the  Commissioners  to  say  that 
the  land  shall  support  all,  and  that  relief  shall  be  given  to  all 
in  the  parish,  whether  they  will  work  or  not,  at  the  expense  of 
all  occupiers  in  the  parish,  every  one  being  starved  already. 
From  all  quarters  I  hear  that  the  sufferings  of  the  clergy  and 
smaller  gentry  this  winter  are  likely  far  to  surpass  any  of  the 
previous  sufferings  of  the  poor.  I  do  not  know  a  parallel  for 
the  cool  perverseness  of  Lord  John.  There  seems  a  dead 
silence  in  the  political  atmosphere  :  we  must  only  trust  that 
Gladstone  is  preparing  for  a  more  terrible  onslaught  on  the 

1  Macaulay,  see  p.  106. 


English,  Irish,  and  colonial  policy  of  our  miserable  govern 
ment.  If  he  anticipates  Disraeli  and  leads  the  attack,  there 
is  some  hope  of  his  attaining  the  post  of  pilot  to  the  world. 
Yet  Ireland  will  more  than  perplex  even  him. 

Ellerton  took  his  degree  and  went  down  in  1849, 
and  was  for  some  time  tutor  to  some  Scotch  boys,  to 
whose  education  some  of  the  letters  of  this  year  refer. 
His  friend  took  a  keen  interest  in  his  efforts  for  the 
boys'  improvement,  and  also  advised  and  encouraged 
him  in  the  difficult  and  delicate  task  of  instilling 
'  Catholic '  principles  into  the  family. 

In  the  spring  of  this  year  Hort  obtained  his 
scholarship  at  Trinity,  and  in  W.  H.  Thompson's 
opinion,  did  best  of  his  year  in  classics  in  the  examina 
tion.  He  had  begun  to  attend  the  meetings  of  the 
Ray  Club,  prominent  members  of  which  were  Paget, 
the  two  Stokes,  and  Adam  Sedgwick,  and  of  which  he 
himself  became  a  member  the  next  year.  There  was 
by  way  of  recreation  much  botanising  with  Babington, 
and  with  parties  conducted  by  Professor  Henslow. 
Other  intimate  friends  were  Henry  Mackenzie,  C.  H. 
Chambers,  and  J.  Westlake,  and  he  corresponded  freely 
with  Mr.  Gerald  Blunt,  as  well  as  with  Ellerton,  his 
letters  to  whom  had  something  of  the  character  of  a 
journal  intime.  Another  important  friendship,  acquired 
in  his  first  term,  was  that  of  Daniel  Macmillan,  to  whom 
he  had  been  introduced  by  his  tutor,  W.  H.  Thompson. 
He  himself  has  told,  in  a  paragraph  contributed  to  Mr. 
T.  Hughes'  Memoir  (pp.  213,  214),  how  pleasant  talks 
in  the  larger  shop  recently  opened  by  Macmillan  led  to 
a  warm  intimacy. 

The  Long  Vacation  was  spent  mostly  at  the  Lakes  ; 
in  the  course  of  his  rambles  there  his  mind  ran  much 
on  theological  difficulties,  and  his  perplexities  caused 


at  times  deep  depression.  The  result  was  that  not 
long  after  his  return  to  Cambridge  he  wrote  to 
Maurice  a  long  letter  on  Eternal  Punishment  and 
Redemption,  which  elicited  the  answer  printed  in 
Maurice's  Life}  This  important  letter  led  to  a  friend 
ship  which  lasted  till  Maurice's  death. 

At  the  end  of  the  same  term  he  took  scarlatina ; 
the  attack  was  apparently  not  regarded  as  severe  at 
the  time,  but  it  left  a  permanent  mark  on  his  constitu 
tion.  The  immediate  consequence  was  that  he  was 
only  able  to  take  the  first  part  of  the  Mathematical 
Tripos  in  January  1850,  and  was  therefore  placed  in 
the  Junior  Optimes,  whereas  it  had  been  hoped  that  he 
would  be  a  wrangler.  He  '  passed  for  honours '  in 
the  first  part  of  the  examination,  and  wished  to  have 
ceger  affixed  to  his  name  in  the  final  class  list,  but  the 
application  was  refused  for  fear  of  abuse  of  the  pre 
cedent.  He  had  not  dared  to  take  an  'aegrotat' 
degree,  with  the  risk  of  being  thereby  excluded  from 
the  Classical  Tripos ;  strangely  enough,  it  was  not 
certain  whether  or  no  an  '  honour  aegrotat '  would 
count  for  this  purpose  as  '  honours.'  He  had  there 
fore  to  be  content  with  a  place  much  below  his  merits, 
and  unredeemed  by  any  official  explanation.  It  was 
necessary  in  those  days  to  obtain  honours  in  mathe 
matics  in  order  to  go  in  for  classical  honours, 
and  candidates  for  the  Chancellor's  Classical  Medals 
were  required  to  have  obtained  at  least  a  second  class 
in  mathematics  ;  from  this  competition  he  was  there 
fore  debarred.  He  wrote  as  follows  to  his  mother  on 
this  unlucky  accident :  "I  am  afraid  that  you  all 
take  my  humble  place  to  heart  far  more  than  I  do 
myself.  I  now  hardly  ever  think  of  it.  In  fact,  if  I 
1  Vol.  ii.  pp.  15,  1 6. 



did,  I  should  be  convicting  myself  of  insincerity  and 
inconsistency,  having  always  talked  pretty  loudly 
against  the  folly  of  making  the  degree  the  sole  end 
in  reading,  and  supposing  it  to  be  the  main  object  for 
which  we  come  up  to  the  University.  Every  one  here 
knows  why  I  am  so  low.  You  all  know  it,  and  I 
shall  probably  take  an  opportunity  of  letting  Tait 
know  before  he  leaves  Rugby.  Almost  the  only 
reason  for  regret,  apart  from  the  loss  of  a  good 
chance  of  a  Chancellor's  Medal,  is  that  I  shall  be 
exhibited  in  the  Calendar  in  a  position  which  will 
make  people  think  that  I  despised  the  mathematics 
of  the  University,  and  only  read  enough  of  them  to 
allow  me  to  take  honours  in  classics,  a  proceeding 
which  I  have  always  vehemently  condemned." 

The  effects  of  scarlatina  are  doubtless  also  to  be 
traced  in  his  place  in  the  Classical  Tripos,  which  was 
a  disappointment  to  his  friends.  He  was  bracketed 
third,  E.  H.  Perowne  being  first,  and  C.  Schreiber 

His  father  and  mother  left  Cheltenham  in  this  year 
for  a  house  which  they  rented  for  a  year  at  the  village 
of  Newland,  in  Monmouthshire,  whence  they  moved  in 
1851  to  Hardwick  House,  near  Chepstow.  After  a 
summer  spent  partly  in  seeing  the  new  home  and 
partly  in  visits  to  friends,  including  one  to  Ellerton  at 
his  first  curacy,  during  which  he  "sat  up  all  night 
talking  and  packing,"  he  returned  to  Cambridge  to 
read  for  the  newly-instituted  examinations  in  Moral 
and  in  Natural  Sciences,  and  for  the  Trinity  Fellow 
ships.  He  became  a  member  of  the  Ray  Club  and  a 
Fellow  of  the  Cambridge  Philosophical  Society.  In 
this  and  the  following  years  his  activity  seemed  to 
expand  even  further  in  all  directions,  while  interests 


apparently  conflicting  did  not  distract  him  from  the 
pursuit  of  aims  clearly  seen  and  deliberately  chosen. 

His  first  letter  to  Maurice  had  naturally  led  to 
others ;  he  consulted  him  again  about  a  course  of 
philosophical  reading.  Maurice's  answer1  indicates 
that  one  object  of  the  letter  was  to  obtain  guidance 
concerning  the  light  thrown  by  philosophical  theories 
on  contemporary  social  problems.  His  interest  in 
Plato  and  Aristotle,  to  say  nothing  of  more  modern 
speculations,  was  anything  but  antiquarian  ;  in  par 
ticular,  the  subject  of  Communism  was  one  which  was 
much  in  his  thoughts. 

In  May  1850  he  for  the  first  time  heard  Maurice 
preach.  The  following  day  he  breakfasted  with  him 
to  meet  some  of  the  'Christian  Socialists' — Mr. 
Ludlow,  Mr.  T.  Hughes,  and  Vansittart  Neale.  He 
again  breakfasted  with  Maurice  the  next  day,  this  time 
alone,  and  thenceforward  their  meetings  were  tolerably 
frequent.  His  critical  attitude  towards  *  Christian 
Socialism '  is  illustrated  by  his  letters  to  Ellerton. 

Botanical  work  went  briskly  forward  ;  there  was 
much  correspondence  with  Babington,  who  got  his 
friend  to  review  botanical  books  in  the  Annals  of 
Botany^  e.g.  Arnott's  new  Flora  published  in  this  year. 
He  also  was  frequently  called  on  to  advise  friends 
beginning  the  study  of  botany.  Many  friends,  and 
not  a  few  strangers,  both  now  and  in  later  years, 
received  from  him  ungrudging  and  valuable  assistance 
of  this  kind  in  the  Alps  or  elsewhere. 

On  theological  and  literary  subjects  he  exchanged 
opinions  freely  by  post  with  Daniel  and  Alexander 
Macmillan.  The  former  gave  him  an  interesting 
piece  of  advice  with  regard  to  the  writing  of  prize 

1  See  Life  of  F.  D.  Maurice,  vol.  ii.  p.  37. 



essays,  telling  him  that  he  "  must  put  his  thoughts 
into  the  form  that  people  are  accustomed  to  :  those 
who  have  important  things  to  say  should  try  to  say 
them  in  the  dialect  of  those  to  whom  they  speak." 
From  a  letter  of  Alexander  Macmillan's  it  appears 
that  Hort  did  not  at  this  time  l  appreciate  Tennyson's 
In  Memoriam.  The  ground  of  objection  was  theo 
logical.  For  instance,  he  strongly  disapproved  of  the 
notion  that  '  Universalism  is  necessary  to  sustain 


CAMBRIDGE,  March  $th,  1849. 

My  dear  Ellerton — The  Addison,  or  a  part  thereof,  have 
just  left  my  rooms  after  a  most  exquisitely  amusing  semi- 
paper  from  Isaacs  on  '  Solitude ' ;  and  now  I  am  sitting  down 
to  begin  to  spin  a  yarn  of  such  brain-stuff  as  I  can  command : 
and  in  fact  I  have  enough  to  say  to  make  the  Post-Office's 
fortune.  .  .  . 

The  day  you  left  Hare's  pamphlet  appeared,  with  a 
magnificent  letter  of  Maurice's  appended.  The  former  is 
very  good,  tho'  certainly  abusive  and  once  or  twice  unfair; 
he  speaks  excellently  on  Inspiration.  Maurice  has  thundered 
again  against  all  parties,  charging  upon  them  the  prevalent 
Pantheism,  etc.,  and  prophesying  their  downfall,  and  the  crash 
when  it  happens ;  he  manfully  asserts  the  Priesthood,  at  the 
same  time  showing  its  especial  function  to  be  the  setting  free 
of  conscience,  etc. — Most  affectionately  yours, 



CAMBRIDGE,  March  loth,  1849. 
FINISHT,  April  ist. 

...   I  continue  my  letter — and  really  I  am  bursting  with 
matter  and  explosive  gas.     I  believe  the  book  I  had  better 
1  See  vol.  ii.  p.  71. 


next  speak  of  is  Froude's  Nemesis  of  Faith^  a  truly  wonderful 
book.  Its  motto  needs  no  comment  to  assure  us  of  its  truth 
now ;  it  is  from  the  end  of  the  Prometheus^  /cat  p?v  e^yw  .  .  . 
crecraAetrrcu  and  cr/apra  8'  .  .  .  aTroSet/cvvyaeva.1 

It  is  briefly  the  tale  of  a  young  man  tormented  with  sceptical 
doubts,  who  enters  holy  orders,  is  driven  from  them  by  the 
exposure  of  an  evangelical,  resigns  his  preferment,  and  goes  to 
Italy,  where  his  doubts  increase,  and  he  falls  into  a  strange 
love-affair  with  the  wife  of  a  boorish  English  squire.  At  last,  on 
her  asking  him  to  run  off  with  her  (do  not  judge  her  too 
harshly  till  you  read  the  book),  he  rushes  madly  away,  and  is 
rescued  from  suicide  by  an  old  seceded  Oxford  friend,  who 
easily  carries  him  over  to  Rome ;  but  he  seems  to  abandon 
that,  and  the  last  sentence  only  declares  his  utter  desolation 
and  ruin.  The  moral  is  the  vengeance  that  a  faith  takes  on 
such  as  lightly  desert  it ;  but  of  course  it  is  chiefly  the  col 
lateral  matter  which  is  meant  to  tell.  The  early  part  consists 
chiefly  of  letters  from  the  young  man,  and  a  sort  of  auto 
biography  he  writes.  I  like  it,  tho',  poor  fellow,  he  is  fast 
falling  into  atheism ;  it  is  beyond  measure  tearfully  earnest 
and  awakening.  There  is  a  most  exquisite  scene  where  the 
poor  rector  tells  his  sad  state  of  mind  to  his  kind  and  noble 
bishop  :  I  must  copy  a  page. 

[Then  follows  a  quotation  from  R.  H.  Froude's  Nemesis  of  Faith, ,] 

.  .  .  They  must  be  strange  eyes  that  can  read  this  passage, 
and  continue  dry.  The  bishop  says  soon  after  what  cannot 
(to  use  a  review  phrase,  slightly  altered)  be  too  deeply  thought 
over.  "  There  is  not  one,"  he  says,  "  not  one  in  all  these  many 
years  which  I  have  seen  upon  the  earth,  not  one  man  of 
more  than  common  power,  who  has  been  contented  to  abide 
in  the  old  ways."  I  have  not  time  to  talk  more  of  the  book. 

I  have  the  first  prize  for  Latin  Declamations.  ...  Of  course 
I  shall  have  to  laud  some  '  distinguisht  character '  in  Latin. 
Some  want  me  to  take  Arnold,  but  you  will  easily  understand 
that  there  are  strong  objections  to  so  doing.  If  poor  old 
Wordsworth  dies  in  time,  he  will  do  gloriously ;  if  he  does  not, 

1  Aesch.  Prom.  1080-1088. 

;E  20 



think  I  shall  take  Coleridge ;  and  if  I  do,  I  will  not  mince 
matters,  but  speak  out :  it  is  only  a  pity  one  will  have  to 
disguise  oneself  in  Latin.  With  the  result  of  the  Craven  I 
have  no  right  to  complain,  except  as  sharing  the  disgrace  of  my 
year,  three  second  years  being  first.  Maine  seems  to  have 
thought  Beamont  best  of  us,  but  some,  if  not  all,  the  other 
examiners  place  me  at  the  head  of  my  year.  ...  Of  course  I 
must  do  my  best  to  get  senior  classic,  if  possible.  I  am  now 
(I  don't  mean  to-day ',  Sunday,  April  ist)  busy  enough  getting 
up  mathematics  for  a  scholarship.  I  put  off  not  only  the 
Porson  but  'Titus'  till  yesterday,  when  at  half-past  two  I  began, 
and  wrote  forty  hexameters  before  chapel;  but  after  that  I 
could  not  write  a  line,  and  of  course  sent  nothing  in. 

I  have  glanced  at  an  anonymous  volume  of  poems  (The 
Strayed  Reveller,  etc.,  by  A.)  by  Mat.  Arnold ;  it  seemed  mild, 
but  a  by  no  means  contemptible  article  in  the  Guardian  on  it 
and  the  Ambarvalia  speaks  well  of  it.  The  latter  book  it 
commends,  dough's  part  at  least.  Maurice  has  just  announced 
his  volume  of  sermons  on  the  Liturgy,  "  chiefly  considered  as 
a  preservation  against  Romanism  " :  item  J.  Hare,  a  second 
volume  of  parish  sermons :  item  Kingsley,  his  Twenty-five 
Village  Sermons.  By  the  way,  you  do  not  mention  whether 
you  received  the  pamphlet  of  Hare's.  I  have  carried  Landor's 
Works  into  the  Union,  and  we  have  a  lot  of  odd  books,  Miss 
Martineau  inter  alia. 

I  do  not  know  whether  you  recollect  at  the  1688 
debate  a  nice-looking  man  opposite  making  a  very  sensible 

speech  cutting  both  parties ;  his  name  was  .  Various 

things  made  me  wish  to  know  him,  and  I  have  made  his 
acquaintance.  It  occurred  to  me  that  if  I  stayed  up  here  any 
time,  should  I  get  a  scholarship  and  fellowship,  I  should  be 
grievously  neglecting  an  obvious  duty  if  I  did  not  keep  an 
intimate  connexion  with  my  juniors,  or  such  at  least  as,  from 
their  possessing  heads  or  hearts,  I  might  be  able  to  lend  a 
helping  hand  to  ;  for  though  bitter  experience  daily  shows  how 
much  I  need  guidance  myself,  I  cannot  think  that  any  excuse 
for  shirking  the  responsibility  of  guiding  others,  where  possible. 
This  first  experiment  is  not  promising :  -  -  is,  I  really  believe, 
a  fine  fellow,  but  no  theologian,  and  entirely  swallowed  up  by 

VOL.  I  H 


rank  Toryism  and  Byron  and  Shelley,  but  has  an  aversion  to 
Maurice,  whom  he  spoke  of  as  'the  well-known  radical,' 
who  in  all  his  lectures  talkt  of  nothing  but  '  the  masses '  and 
their  rights,  and  how  'they  began  to  feel  themselves  men.' 
He  said  that  Maurice  was  a  most  thorough-going  disciple  of 
Macaulay  (in  philosophy  as  well  as  politics),  and  that  the  one 
idea  of  his  mind  seemed  to  be  '  vox  populi^  vox  Dei '  /  /  / 
I  had  a  long  battle  with  him  the  other  day  on  a  point  really 
involving  the  materialistic  controversy.  I  dare  not  despair  of 
him ;  besides  I  have  great  faith  in  his  beautiful  face  and  head ; 
but  it  is  no  easy  task  I  have  undertaken. 

I  ought  to  have  told  you  before  that  I  went  three  weeks 
ago  to  hear  Jenny  Lind,  who  gave  a  concert  here.  It  would 
be  useless  to  attempt  to  describe  it.  Her  face  is  utterly 
unlike  all  pictures :  she  has  high  cheek-bones  and  a  face  by 
no  means  buttery,  as  she  is  represented ;  but  rather  plain  than 
otherwise,  except  in  her  most  beautiful,  calm,  living  eyes.  But, 
when  she  begins  to  sing,  all  is  changed ;  her  features  indeed 
do  not  themselves  become  beautiful,  but  they  seem  to  be 
transparent,  and  let  you  see  only  the  pure,  heavenly,  sunny, 
joyous  spirit  venting  itself  in  the  softest,  richest  waves  of 
music.  I  am  afraid  these  words  will  sound  affected,  but  they 
are  the  best  I  can  think  of,  to  express  the  peculiar  character 
of  her  singing. 

I  really  know  little  of  passing  politics,  except  of  the  last 
month,  for  before  that  I  seldom  read  the  papers ;  so  you  must 
not  ask  opinions  where  I  have  none.  Perhaps  this  is  wrong ; 
would  it  were  the  only  duty  I  have  neglected !  Of  late  I 
have  observed  Gladstone  ever  at  his  post,  quietly  exposing 
abuses,  giving  up  private  wishes  for  public  good,  being  reviled 
and  not  reviling,  in  all  things  a  faithful  steward  to  his  Master. 

If  you  have  leisure  to  write,  do  not  be  afraid  of  tiring  me, 
even  with  the  petty  incidents  of  your  daily  life.  I  long  to 
know  (of  course,  really)  your  little  pupils,  how  you  fare  with 
them,  and  with  their  parents.  You  would  smile  if  I  were  to 
write  down  the  prospect  of  glorious  work  I  see  before  you,  to 
which  it  has  been  God's  blessed  will  for  your  and  for  old 
Scotland's  good  to  call  you ;  He  is  indeed  shaking  not  earth 
only,  but  also  heaven.  O  that  we  could  always  rest  sure,  as 



we  ought,  that  it  is  He  that  is  shaking  it,  that  it  is  the  glorious 
God  that  maketh  the  thunder !  but  our  wretched  selfishness 
and  sin  makes  this  hard.  Let  us  pray,  my  dear  Ellerton,  for 
each  other,  and  for  all  our  unknown  fellow-strugglers,  that  we 
may  so  live  that  we  may  shrink  from  no  trial  laid  upon  us, 
but  rejoice  and  triumph  in  all  that  befalls,  as  a.  fresh  unveiling 

If  His  perfect  glory  ! 
CAMBRIDGE,  March  i$fk,  1849. 
I  cannot  but  regard  it  as  a  wonderfully  providential  thing 
mat  you  have  been  summoned  up  under  such  strange  circum 
stances.     Of  course  you  must  display  your  true  colors.     You 
are  no  'Puseyite,'  nor  should  you  appear  one.     You  are  a 
Catholic  Churchman.      You  should  show  yourself  as  such, 
taking  every  opportunity  of  inculcating  the  idea  that  Catho 
licity  means  not  exclusiveness  but  comprehensiveness,  that  all 
bonds  of  opinion  must   be    exclusive,   that  the   bond   of  a 
common  divine  life  derived  in  Sacraments  is  the  most  com 
prehensive  bond  possible.     I  think,  I  more  than  think,  you 
should  claim  leave  to  attend  the  Communion,  and  you  may 
have  opportunities  of  showing  that,  whether  all  the  prayers 
are  orthodox  or  not,  the  Sacrament  remains  unchanged ;  and 
point  to  the  numberless  passages  in  our  Prayer-book  which 

militate  against  absence  from  the  Communion.     With I 

would  be  as  frank.  Tell  him  that  on  the  fundamental  part  of 
the  Sacramental  doctrines  as  well  as  the  Succession,  you  agree 
with  him,  though  you  may  have  differences  in  detail.  Tell 
him  your  first  object  is  to  make  the churchmen,  and  con 
sistent  churchmen ;  that  indoctrination  must  be  a  later  and 
slower  process ;  that  you  must  start  from  the  points  you  have 
in  common  with  them,  and  follow  that  course  which  God 
shall  seem  to  point  out,  especially  avoiding  startling  them 
needlessly.  The  prayers  you  have  to  read  or  rather  compose 
are,  I  should  think,  a  very  powerful  instrument,  especially  for 

winning  over  .     But  with  the  boys  I  think  you  should 

have  very  little  c  dogmatic '  teaching,  but  make  the  Catechism 
and  Bible  your  text-books — not  text — in  one  sense,  but  you 


can  make  the  Bible  a  wonderful  instrument,  simply  by  not 
treating  it  as  a  bundle  of  texts.  Read  Maurice's  Queen's 
College  Lecture  on  Theology.  I  suppose  I  could  jaw  you  in 
this  manner  to  all  eternity,  but  I  must  stop  for  want  of  time, 
and  really  you  know  as  well  as  I  do,  and  better,  how  to  act. 
May  God  direct  and  bless  you  and  your  efforts  in  the  great 
and  glorious  post  He  has  assigned  you. 


CAMBRIDGE,  Easter  Day,  1849  [April  8/7;]. 

.  .  .  Talking,  however,  of reminds  me  of  the  Bishop 

of  London,  who — all  honour  to  him  for  it — has  abolisht  the 
annual  private  and  select  Confirmation  of  the  children  of  the 
nobility  at  the  Chapel  Royal.  It  is  a  disgrace  to  the  Church 
that  it  should  have  lasted  so  long. 

Do  not  trouble  yourself  about  writing  when  you  have  not 
plenty  of  time  for  it ;  but  I  am  longing  to  hear  all  about  your 
little  charges,  and  do  not  yet  know  even  their  names.  If  you 
have  time,  I  should  think  it  would  be  worth  your  while,  as 
spring  advances  and  you  are  living  in  the  country,  to  work  a 
little  at  botany.  Independently  of  my  love  for  the  science 
itself,  and  the  principles  of  universal  application  which  seem 
insensibly  to  take  hold  of  one  from  the  pursuit,  I  find  it  very 
advantageous  and  refreshing  to  be  able  to  take  refuge  for  a 
while  from  the  circle  of  restless  human  interests  of  all  kinds 
in  something  lower  and  yet  with  all  the  impress  of  perfection 
in  its  own  kind, — something  not  spiritual,  and  yet  rewarding 
research  with  views  of  infinite  order  and  beauty.  This  of 
course  increases  with  the  earnestness  and  reality  of  one's 
study  of  the  subject.  Dilettantism  here,  as  everywhere,  is 
barren  and  fruitless.  Further,  I  fancy  you  might  find  it  good 
to  interest  your  pupils  in  pursuits  pure  and  healthy,  while  yet 
not  a  mere  matter  of  books,  without  diminishing  the  manliness 
and  freedom  which  is  only  acquired  (teste  Platone,  etc.  etc.)  by 
plenty  of  bodily  exercise  and  recreation. 

I  have  got  a  volume  of  poems  by  '  Currer,  Ellis,  and 
Acton  Bell '  (it  is  said  rpi&v  ovo/xarov  jj,op<f>r)  [Ata,  but  I  do  not 
believe  it),  i.e.  the  authors  (as  I  now  feel  quite  sure)  of  Jane 

IGE  21          CAMBRIDGE  :    UNDERGRADUATE  LIFE  101 

Eyre  and  her — sisters,  I  suppose.  There  is  scarcely  a  grain 
of  poetry  as  far  as  I  have  read ;  but  under  a  somewhat 
commonplace  guise  there  is  so  much  curious  earnestness  and 
feeling  that  they  are  highly  interesting;  but  that  is  all. 
'  Currer's '  are  much  the  best. 

Will  you  mention  when  you  write  whether  you  finisht 
Vanity  Fair1?  Thackeray  was  here  for  a  day  or  two  to  get 
up  materials  for  his  last  number,  where,  I  hear,  he  introduces 
his  hero  to  '  Oxbridge,'  while  he  has  friends  at  '  Camford ' ; 
he  has  a  massive,  rugged  face,  not  stupid  but,  as  far  as  I  saw, 
which  was  not  well,  not  remarkable. 

Macmillan  promises  to  use  his  best  endeavours  to  get 
Maurice  and  Kingsley  up  here,  and  introduce  me  to  them.  I 
need  not  say  I  shall  in  that  case  do  all  I  decently  can  to 
deepen  and  perpetuate  the  acquaintance,  and,  if  so,  I  shall 
have  abundant  opportunity  of  letting  Maurice  know  that  some 
at  least  (I  greatly  fear,  not  many)  regard  their  battles  as  their 
own.  That  the  strife  is  deepening,  I  feel  more  strongly  every 
day.  I  really  must  close,  and  read  mathematics  for  to-morrow ; 
so  good-night,  my  dear  Ellerton. 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  22nd,  1849. 

Thank  you  much  for  your  very  interesting  account  of 
the  boys.  Are  you  sure  that  you  are  right  in  making 
Phsedrus  the  introduction  to  Latin,  whatever  be  the  con 
ventional  First  Book?  He  is  easy,  but  stupid  and  utterly 
worthless.  I  must  say  I  think  Maurice  is  in  a  great  measure 
right  when  he  speaks  of  "the  wisdom  of  the  old  notion,  that 
only  the  best  books,  only  those  which  carry  a  kind  of  authority 
with  them,  should  be  set  before  boys ;  when  they  have  been 
drilled  by  them  into  habits  of  deference  and  humility,  then 
they  may  venture,  if  their  calling  requires  it,  upon  the  study  of 
the  worst,  for  then  they  will  have  acquired  the  true  discerning 
spirit,  that  spirit  of  which  the  judging  spirit  is  the  counterfeit ; 
the  one  perceiving  the  real  quality  of  the  food  which  is  offered, 
the  other  setting  up  its  own  partial  and  immature  tastes  and 
aversions  as  the  standard  of  what  is  good  and  evil." 


You,  of  course,  are  the  best  judge  as  to  whether  he  is  up  to 
Caesar,  but  I  should  not  call  Caesar  a  hard  author,  and  his 
style  is  plain  and  vigorous.  Livy  (even  the  narrative)  seems 
to  me  much  harder,  chiefly  from  the  condensed  style.  What 
do  you  say  to  the  more  spirited  and  easy  of  Cicero's  Orationes  ? 
Virgil's  sEneid  seems  to  me  particularly  good  for  boys.  I 
cannot  agree  with  you  as  to  the  bad  expediency  of  teaching 
Latin  before  Greek.  The  change  from  a  non-inflected  language 
to  one  so  rich  in  grammatical  differences  as  the  Greek,  should, 
I  think,  be  made  gradually,  and  the  direct,  rigid  nature  of  the 
Latin  makes  it  probably  the  best  of  all  languages  for  the 
teaching  of  the  mechanical  but  most  necessary  part  of  grammar. 
The  recent  neglect  of  Latin  in  Germany  and  England  is  pro 
ducing  miserable  results,  producing  very  showy  and  very 
superficial  Greek  scholars.  Besides,  think  of  the  briars  and 
thickets  that  would  fence  off  your  boys  from  the  'streaming 
fountains '  in  reading  Homer  ;  to  say  nothing  of  constructions, 
his  philology  is  as  hard  as  that  of  all  other  Greek  authors  put 
together :  I  think  it  is  generally  read  a  great  deal  too  early. 
He  labours  under  another  disadvantage  in  common  with 
Herodotus  :  surely  it  is  well  to  have  secured  a  good  footing  in 
Attic  before  you  perplex  a  boy  with  other  dialects.  In  prose 
Xenophon  and  Plato's  Apology  and  the  narrative  parts  of  the 
Crito  and  Phado  would  do  at  first,  and  then  Demosthenes' 
Philippics  and  Olynthiacs. 

Poetry  is  harder  to  select.  If  Euripides  were  more  than 
semivir  he  would  be  excellent,  and  still  I  think  selections 
might  be  made,  as  well  as  easy  bits  of  Sophocles  (who  is  quite 
vir).  I  should  think  one  great  way  of  chaining  his  interest 
would  be  to  check  the  boyish  (as  well  as  mannish)  custom  of 
considering  that  a  word  in  Latin  or  Greek  has  a  certain 
number  of  words  answering  to  it  in  English,  all  equally  good, 
and  vice  versa  ;  and  to  show  as  you  go  along  (which  is  easily 
done  in  a  good  author,  whose  language  really  expresses  thought) 
that  no  word  would  have  done  equally  well  in  Latin,  and  that 
a  corresponding  care  must  be  exercised  in  English — in  short, 
to  teach  language,  the  most  entrancing  of  all  subjects  for  a 
young  and  active  mind.  As  for  English  poetry,  I  should  be 
sorry  if  he  pretended  to  like  Tennyson,  or  even  Wordsworth ; 

21          CAMBR] 



it  would  seem  to  me  purely  mischievous  and  unnatural  to  force 
subjective  poetry  upon  a  mind  which  requires  only  objective 
poetry,  and  would  otherwise  be  either  disgusted  or  forced  into 
an  artificial  and  unreal  precocity.  I  think  you  have  chosen 
very  well  in  making  him  read  Scott.  Spenser  would,  I  suppose, 
be  the  book,  if  he  were  not  too  '  immoral '  and  Bible-like  for 

— 's   taste ;    but could  not  object  to  Southey,  who 

would  suit  your  purpose  well,  especially  in  Madoc.  If  there 
were  but  a  decent  rendering  of  Homer  ! !  Pope,  I  believe,  may 
do  good  by  what  of  the  original  he  has  unwittingly  and  un 
willingly  let  through,  but  this  would  not  compensate  for  the 
mischief  of  filling  the  boy's  head  with  a  jingle -jangle  of 
pompous  nothings. 

I  cannot  say  much  for  the  Rugby  teaching  of  history. 
Pinnock's  Goldsmith  is  (I  think)  the  text-book  in  the  lower 
forms,  then  Keightley.  In  the  Twenty,  Price  used  to  expect  us 
to  amass  materials  any  whence;  and  much  the  same  in  the 
Sixth.  As  far  as  I  recollect,  the  whole  direct  teaching  in  Form 
was  of  English  History,  Greek  and  Roman  being  supposed  to 
be  imbibed  in  small  doses  in  the  preparation  for  historical 
allusions  in  classical  books,  which  were  always  required  to  be 
well  known.  History  was  also  learnt  among  the  '  extras,' 
or  subjects  taken  up  voluntarily  at  the  Christmas  examination  ; 
an  admirable  and  elaborate  system  introduced  by  Arnold, 
tho'  somewhat  marred  by  Tait,  for  encouraging  the  peculiar 
tastes  of  each  individual.  History  is,  I  think,  also  generally 
the  holiday  task  in  all  the  forms  which  have  one,  viz.  all 
below  the  Sixth  and  Twenty ;  this  is  a  recent  and  bad  concoc 
tion  of  Tait's  and  the  masters'.  But  in  Form  nothing  in  the 
world  helps  a  boy  on  so  well  as  being  well  acquainted  with 
the  best-known  periods  of  Greek  and  Roman  history ;  and  to 
be  able  to  answer  a  question  in  modern  history,  asked  inci 
dentally,  prepossesses  a  master  wonderfully. 

Recollect  that  the  grand  secret  of  preparation  for  Rugby  is 
a  thorough  acquaintance  with  Latin  and  Greek  grammar.  .  .  . 
Pray  ask  for  any  other  Rugby  hints  you  may  wish  without 
:ruple.     I  should  think  thirteen  about  the  age,  if  a  boy  is 
iither  genius  nor  fool.     It  is  bad  to  enter  in  the  Lower 
:hool,   and,   on   the  other  hand,   it  is  good  to  go  through 


several  forms  and  get  some  fagging.     If  I  rightly  take  your 

account  of ,  I  should  say  that  the  tone  I  would  especially 

cultivate  in  him  would  be  hatred  and  impatience  of  seeing 
others  bullied  and  opprest ;  he  would  be  too  explosive  to  be 
submissive,  and  such  a  bias  would  turn  his  vivacity  in  a  right 
direction,  without  his  forfeiting  the  consideration  among  the 
rest,  which  may  be  useful  in  every  way.  I  need  scarcely 
suggest  how  history,  etc.,  may  be  brought  to  cultivate  the 
same  spirit  on  a  wider  scale,  nor  how  requisite  it  will  be  for  all 
— certainly  not  least  for  men  of  station  and  property — in  the 
coming  time.  I  am  quite  convinced  that  robbing  boys  of 
manliness  and  making  them  spoonies  renders  their  life 
wretched  at  school,  and  is  fully  as  likely  as  a  different  course 
is  to  lead  them  into  vicious  habits. 

W (who    once    read    the   Kingdom    of  Christ,    first 

edition,  and  calls  it  quite  unintelligible,  even  to  its  own 
author ! !),  a  great  friend  of  Harvey  Goodwin,  told  me  that  at 
one  time  Goodwin  used  to  employ  all  his  wit  in  ridiculing 
Maurice,  but  that  a  lady  of  his  relations  who  was  an  admirer 
of  Maurice  persuaded  Goodwin  to  read  his  writings  more  care 
fully,  and  that  for  the  last  two  years  he  has  had  a  very  high 
opinion  of  him. 

I  do  not  understand  from  your  letter  whether  you  actually 
are  working  at  botany,  or  wishing  you  could,  and  managing 

Master  at  his  studies.     I  do  not  think  you  would  find 

your  eye  for  wholes  incompatible  with  an  eye  for  parts ;  at 
least  I  do  not  think  one  predominates  over  the  other  in  me. 
In  fact  no  one  can  be  a  real  naturalist  who  has  not  in  a 
measure  both  faculties,  and  cannot  seize  the  idea  of  a  species, 
independently  of  technical  characters.  But  you  are  the  best 
judge  in  your  own  case.  Macgillivray  is  perhaps  the  best  for 
a  beginning,  and  you  can  easily  show  the  boy  that  the  Linnean 
system  there  adopted  bears  little  relation  to  the  actual  affinities 
of  plants  (which  you  must  be  able  in  a  measure  to  detect), 
but  it  is  an  easy  system  for  reference,  and  was  in  fact  intended 
as  no  more  by  its  great  inventor.  I  protest  most  strongly 
against  your  attack  on  Gilbert  White;  his  cant  and  senti- 
mentalism  are  those  of  his  age ;  his  proneness  for  theory 
sometimes  led  him  astray,  but  he  was  in  general  an  accurate 

;E  21 


observer,  wonderfully  so  for  his  time  and  circumstances. 
Surely  Bewick  generally  gets  as  much  credit  as  you  have  given 
him.  He  is  looked  on  as  the  father  of  modern  English 
engraving,  and  one  of  our  very  highest  naturalist  artists. 

When  I  read  the  first  third  of  Vanity  Fair,  I  was  greatly 
disgusted ;  but,  as  I  advanced,  my  feeling  gradually  changed, 
till  I  strongly  admired  it,  tho'  the  end  annoyed  me.  On 
the  whole  I  think  it  a  work  of  great  power  and  purpose, 
though  with  by  no  means  the  dramatic  genius  (to  say  nothing 
of  the  sunniness)  of  Dickens.  I  thought  at  first  that  Dobbin 
was  a  mere  copy  of  Tom  Pinch,  but  I  now  would  put  it  quite 
on  its  own  ground.  One  would  be  inclined  to  praise  the  way 
in  which  he  shows  Amelia  as  drawn  out  from  a  mere  moping, 
silly  girl  into  something  like  character  by  her  love  for  George 
Osborne,  were  it  not  that  he  most  absurdly  calls  our  attention 
to  her  rare  and  remarkable  merits  ('humble  flowers,'  etc. 
etc.)  at  a  time  when  he  represents  her,  in  fact,  with  scarcely 
any  attribute  that  would  not  belong  equally  well  to  a  pat  of 
butter  in  the  dog-days ;  and  some  of  the  latter  traits  of  her 
character  are  really  wretchedly  selfish.  Pendennis  is  a  vast 
improvement ;  there  is  a  good  deal  of  wholesome  truth  told, 
and  never  in  a  one-sided  manner.  Dickens's  new  serial,  No.  i, 
very  good,  as  far  as  it  goes ;  we  shall  see  by  and  bye  how  it 

ns  out. 

Maurice  is  very  busy  rewriting  for  separate  publication  his 
ristory  of  Philosophy.  The  Warburtonians  are  all  delivered, 
nd  are  soon  to  be  published ;  they  are  to  be  startling.  But 
I  am  anxiously  expecting  the  Prayer-book  Sermons,  which  are 
chiefly  on  Inspiration  and  the  idea  of  punishment  as  purgation 
of  sin. 

Do  what  you  can  to  get  hold  of  the  May  Fraser ;  there  are 
several  good  articles.  First,  a  glorious  one  by  Ludlow  (a 
secret,  mind  you)  on  the  Nemesis,  .  .  .  then  a  capital 
homely  letter  of  T.  Carlyle  on  '  Indian  Meal.' 

I  have  not  read  F.  Newman's  book ;  it  seems  weak ;  and  I 

r  Maurice  has  now  no  opinion  of  him.  I  have  read  his 
other's  Loss  and  Gain;  it  is  very  painful  in  the  early  part 

m  the  sneers  at  the  Prayer-book,  etc.,  but  it  rises  out  of 
at,  and  is  John  Henry  Newman  all  over.  With  all  its  faults 


and  'dangerousness,'  it  is  a  fine  book,  and  much  may  be 
learnt  from  it. 

Sara  Coleridge  has  republisht  part  of  the  two  first  volumes 
of  the  Literary  Remains,  with  some  other  scraps,  as  '  Lectures 
on  the  Dramatists,'  etc. 

Macmillan  has  lent  me  a  MS.  written  at  Maurice's  request 
some  years  ago,  being  a  picture  of  the  state  of  mind  of  young 
Scotchmen  some  sixteen  years  ago.  Accompanying  it  is  a 
long  autograph  letter  of  Maurice's,  valuable  and  beautiful 
beyond  measure ;  possibly  I  may  copy  it,  if  possible,  but  it  is 
strange  that  so  good  a  man  should  write  so  bad  a  hand.  I 
hear  he  has  a  high  idea  of  J.  S.  Mill,  for  his  unflinching 
honesty  and  fairness.  J.  W.  Parker  told  Macmillan  that  Mill 
had  said  to  him  that  the  only  positive  addition  to  philosophy 
since  Kant  was  Maurice's  History  of  Philosophy. 

At  last  I  proposed  Macaulay  at  the  Union.  The  terms  were 
"that  the  two  first  volumes  of  Mr.  Macaulay's  History  of 
England  are  utterly  wanting  in  the  most  essential  characteristics 
of  a  great  history."  I  took  entirely  the  ground  of  his  bad 
principles,  and  was  rapturously  cheered,  tho'  I  spoke  for  an 
hour  and  a  quarter ;  at  eleven  we  adjourned.  The  week  after 
we  again  had  a  good  debate,  but  it  was  not  over  till  eleven, 

and had  cleared  the  house  by  speaking;   so  that  the 

numbers  were  very  small,  and  it  went  quite  against  me.  He 
himself  was  here  from  the  previous  Saturday  to  Monday,  and 
I  was  afraid  he  would  stay  and  come  to  the  debate. 


CAMBRIDGE,  July  i$th,  1849. 

.  .  .  Before  I  speak  of  anything  else  I  know  you  will  be 
burning  to  know  something  of  Maurice's  sermons.  They  came 
out  on  Friday  week,  and  I  immediately  secured  a  copy  for 
you,  expecting  the  edition  to  be  off  soon.  But  I  had  a  vague 

idea  that  you  would  be  about  this  time  away  from ,  and 

in  the  lazy,  idle,  selfish  mood  I  have  been  in  for  some  time, 
did  not  take  the  trouble  to  search  for  your  letter.  But  now  I 
have  found  it,  and  suppose  you  are  back  again,  and  therefore 


herewith  send  the  book  by  the  same  post.  They  are,  in  my 
mind,  not  in  general  equal  to  the  Lord's  Prayer.  But  that 
on  the  '  Songs  of  the  Church  '  and  the  last  four  are  wonderful. 

I  am  on  the  whole  not  sorry  that  you  use  Lilly's  and  not 
Kennedy's  Latin  Grammar,  for  I  think  the  latter  has  English 
rules ;  and  though  I  know  not  the  former,  I  am  sure  that  in 
spite  of  some  mere  mechanical  rote  repetitions,  infinite  good 
is  conferred  by  constant  use  of  the  rigid  Latin  rules.  Of 
course  you  parse  unceasingly ;  it  is  irksome  work  to  you  both, 
but  infinitely  important. 

...  I  scarcely  know  how  to  answer  you  about  Gilbert 
hite,  for  I  never  read  him  through,  and  I  have  not  looked 
at  him  for  a  long  while.  Certainly  if  he  took  up  his  natural 
history  pursuits  merely  as  a  selfish  amusement  to  kill  time,  and 
if  he  neglected  the  parish  which  he  had  undertaken,  I  cannot 
refuse  to  condemn  him.  But  I  am  not  sure  that  I  understand 
the  meaning  of  what  you  consider  his  rightful  function.  It  is 
perhaps  not  inappropriate  to  apply  the  title  'a  commissioned 
expounder  of  God's  name  to  the  world '  to  an  honest  and 
hearty  naturalist;  but  if  you  mean  it  that  Gilbert  White  neglected 
his  trust  because  he  wrote  only  of  natural  objects  as  natural 
objects,  and  did  not  seek  to  draw  lessons  from  them,  to  make 
them  the  mystical  oracles  of  moral  principles  to  others,  I 
iffer  from  you  toto  ccelo.  Such  impressions  may  be  suggested 

the  observer  himself,  but  I  doubt  whether  they  can  be 
municated  to  others  without  dishonesty  and  genuine 
'sttcism.  A  few  sentences  from  the  Kingdom  of  Christ  will 
illustrate  what  I  mean. 

[Then  follows  a  quotation  from  Maurice's  Kingdom  of  Christ^  2nd  ed. 
1.  ii.  part  ii.  pp.  420,  422.] 


Much  of  this  refers  to  quite  a  different  notion,  but  I  cannot 
separate  it  from  its  condemnation  of  what  I  fear  may  be  your 
meaning.  An  honest  student  of  nature  must,  I  think,  make 
physical  principles  the  object  of  his  search.  If  he  be  able 

I -~ides  to  apply  his  researches  to  moral  ends,  as  in  some  of 
Igwick's  orations,  well  and  good ;  but  he  must  not  suppose 
t  this  is  the  aim  of  his  science,  else  he  will  degrade  and 
ify  both.  I  often  think  of  a  passage  in  Maurice  (I  forget 


where)  where  he  revels  in  the  thought  of  the  advance  of 
knowledge^  and  looks  with  delight  to  the  time  when  every 
object,  from  the  meanest  moss  or  insect  to  the  lordliest  work 
of  creation,  shall  be  seen,  each  after  its  kind,  in  its  true  place 
and  order  and  in  perfect  fulness  of  vision.  I  take  my  stand 
on  Bacon's  glorious  words  :  Nos  autem  non  Capitolium  aliquod 
aut  pyramidem  hominum  superbicz  dedicamus  aut  condimus,  sed 
templum  sanctum  ad  exemplar  mundi  in  intellectu  humano 
fundamus.  Itaque  exemplar  sequimur.  Nam  quicquid  essentia 
dignum  est,  id  etiam  scientia  dignum ;  quce  est  essentice  imago. 
Further,  even  though  one  were  not  to  add  to  the  sum  of 
existing  knowledge  of  Natural  Science  by  writing,  one  may,  I 
think,  feel  that  it  is  not  selfish  enjoyment  merely,  if  one  finds 
it  and  uses  it  as  a  beneficial  agent  to  one's  mind,  if  that  mind 
be  in  other  subjects  and  occupations  devoted  to  true  work. 
But  enough  of  this  sermonising,  which  after  all  may  have  been 

The  present  Fraser  has  the  beginning  of  a  delightful  article 
on  North  Devon  by  Kingsley.  Maurice  was  married  at  the 
beginning  of  the  month,  took  a  brief  honey-half-moon  at 
Torquay,  and  was  then  obliged  to  resume  his  collegiate  and 
other  duties  in  London ;  as  soon  as  he  is  released  from  them, 
he  goes  to  take  the  parish  next  to  Kingsley's  (who  has  now 
returned  to  Eversley)  for  a  month.  I  fear  there  is  but  little 
chance  of  his  coming  hither. 

The  Epigrams  cost  me  very  little  trouble,  having  been 
resolved  on,  thought  out,  composed,  and  written  out  between 
evening  chapel  and  a  private  business  meeting  at  the  Union ; 
still,  inter  nos,  they  were  twice  as  good  as  those  which  got  the 
prize,  though  no  great  shakes.  Since  then  I  have  written  for 
and  missed  the  College  English  Essay.  I  scarcely  read  a 
word  for  it,  and,  as  usual,  wrote  more  than  half  the  last  day ; 
and  it  was  not  long  or  minute,  but  crude  and  ungrammatical ; 
still  methinks  not  quite  nonsense.  Mackenzie  got  it,  as  he 
probably  deserved. 

I  am  not  so  sanguine  as  you  about  the  new  Classical  Tripos 
regulations,  except  in  so  far  that  they  are  generally  looked  on 
as  temporary,  and  I  hope  we  may  finally  get  a  thorough 
searching  examination  in  classics,  mathematics,  and  divinity, 



which  all  must  pass,  leaving  honours  as  an  unnecessary  supple 
ment.  But  unequal  and  unfair  as  are  the  respective  treatments 
of  classics  and  mathematics,  I  believe  the  equalising  them  by 
the  exemption  of  classics  from  a  mathematical  qualification 
would  be  an  '  infinite  worse '  to  the  University,  and  especially 
to  its  classics. 

I  have  scarcely  looked  at  Ruskin  yet.  I  am  afraid  of  his 
getting  into  a  mere  cant  phraseology ;  the  more  to  be  dreaded 
that  he  seems  fond  of  saying  things  that  may  produce  a  great 
effect,  and  strike  the  reader  with  their  unfathomable  profundity  ; 
still  he  is  doubtless  an  admirable  man.  As  far  as  I  see,  his 
great  fault  is  his  endeavouring  to  interpret  symbols  into 
intellectual  notions.  Now  this,  though  at  first  sight  it  may 
seem  most  completely  opposed  to  the  vulgar  notion  of  beauty 
as  something  having  no  real  absolute  existence  except  as  that 
which  is  pleasing  to  the  eye,  is  really  an  offshoot,  springing 
lower  and  deeper  down  from  the  same  root ;  for  it  tacitly 
assumes  that  whatever  is  spiritual,  has  a  substantive  existence, 
and  is  communicable  from  spirit  to  spirit,  must  be  capable 
of  interpretation  into  intellectual  ideas,  and  therefore  into 
language,  which  is  their  exponent ;  whereas  it  seems  to  me 
most  important  to  assert  that  beauty  is  not  merely  a  phase 
or  (as  Sterling  calls  it)  the  body  of  truth,  but  has  its  own 
distinct  essence  and  is  communicable  through  its  own  media, 
independently  of  those  of  truth.  And  hence  that  forms  of 
beauty  are  valuable  (to  use  a  word  which  most  imperfectly 
conveys  my  meaning),  not  as  sensuous  exponents  of  those 
forms  of  truth  which  are  emanations  from  Him  who  is  the 
Perfect  Truth,  but  as  themselves  emanations  from  Him  who 
is  the  Perfect  Beauty.  I  am  afraid  this  is  misty,  but  I  cannot 
express  myself  more  clearly. 



/,  1849. 

.    .    Your  mention    of  the    offertory  reminds  me   that 
Igwick,  who  has  from  paucity  of  dons  had  often  to  read 
ic  Communion   Service   on  Sundays,  has  proved  the  most 


rubrical  of  all,  for  he  always  read,  "  Let  your  light  shine,"  etc,  ! 
A  propos  of  the  brave  old  fellow,  he  has  just  finished  his 
Preface,  and  made  it  tremendously  long.  Item  he  has  nearly 
finisht  a  big  book  on  the  primary  strata,  especially  of  the  S. 
of  Scotland,  so  that  he  will  escape  the  inglorious  fate  of  the 
greatest  of  pioneers,  and  leave  something  for  his  name  to  stick 
to  when  his  gigantic,  nameless  labours  have  been  forgotten. 
How  it  would  have  done  poor  Mark's  l  heart  good  to  have 
known  it,  —  perhaps  he  does  know  it  !  ! 

I  quite  feel  all  you  say  about  Claverhouse  ;  at  least  he  had 
in  an  eminent  degree  one  virtue,  —  for  it  is  a  God  -like  virtue, 
let  the  Manchesterians  say  what  they  will,  —  loyalty.  It  is  fast 
disappearing.  When  it  is  gone,  may  God  protect  England,  for 
she  will  need  it  as  she  never  has  done. 

KESWICK,  August 

I  don't  know  how  -  got  his  notion  of  my  missing  the 
Greek  Testament  prize  from  doctrinally  annoying  the  examiners. 
It  may  be  so  ;  but  I  believe  not.  My  inability  to  muster  the 
requisite  caput]mortuum  of  cram  was  the  real  reason,  I  have  no 
doubt.  The  Ecclesiastical  History  paper  was  full  of  doctrine 
which  I  answered  unreservedly  ;  yet  I  was  all  but  first  in  that 

You  will  be  amused  and  perhaps  not  displeased  to  hear 
that  Clough  was  seen  on  the  walls  of  Rome  fighting  in  Gari 
baldi's  army  ;  that  does  not  look  like  stagnation.  And  if  he 
has  survived,  I  trust  he  may  indeed  be  a  living  worker  in  the 
coming  time. 

I  was  very  sorry  to  hear  Manning's  opinion  of  Hare.  It 
may,  however,  be  some  counterpoise  to  you  to  know  that  a 
stranger  calling  on  the  Macmillans,  told  them  that  he  had 
travelled  per  rail  with  a  clergyman  (unknown)  with  whom  he 
had  conversed  on  theological  subjects,  and  who  had  recom 
mended  him  to  read  Maurice's  Kingdom  as  a  most  valuable 
book.  On  separating  he  gave  him  his  card  —  '  Ven.  Arch 
deacon  Manning  '  !  !  He  sees,  what  so  few  do  see,  the 
tremendous  chasm  of  opinion  on  Church  matters  that  separates 
Maurice  from  Hare. 

1  Mark  Howard,  a  friend  who  had  recently  died. 

AGE  21 



I  have  been  here  nearly  a  week,  and  am  of  course  in  a 
great  state  of  enjoyment.  I  coached  from  Windermere  station 
(between  Bowness  and  Troutbeck),  and  had  a  most  glorious 
drive.  One  or  two  beautiful  Early  English  churches  are  just 
built  about  Kendal  and  that  neighbourhood  (the  only  true 
style,  I  think,  for  a  mountainous  district  of  this  nature).  The 
Pikes  were  as  grand  as  ever ;  in  short,  everything  about  that 
exquisite  view  was  in  perfection.  My  father  has  been  greatly 
tempted  to  fix  us  permanently  in  a  house  beautifully  situated 
at  the  foot  of  Skiddaw  two  and  a  half  miles  hence,  with,  I 
verily  believe,  the  grandest  view  in  the  Lakes,  but  there  are 
many  objections.  .  .  .  On  Sunday  morning  we  went  to  St. 
John's  Church  (F.  Myers'),  built  by  one  of  the  Marshall  legion. 
I  was  struck  at  the  beginning  of  the  sermon  by  some  beauti 
ful  expressions,  somewhat  Arnoldian,  and  certainly  neither 
evangelical  nor  belonging  to  any  other  form  of  ordinary 
theology.  Unfortunately  I  was  very  sleepy,  but  heard  much 
good  matter  in  the  most  exquisite  and  felicitous  language. 
Imagine  my  annoyance  in  finding  that  I  had  been  listening 
without  recognition  to  Arthur  Penrhyn  Stanley ! 

I  am  most  anxious  to  set  you  right,  as  I  have  done  myself, 
on  a  point  on  which  we  have  both  erred  grievously  in  ignorance,, 
viz.  in  regard  to  G.  Sand.  At  Macmillan's  persuasion,  I  at 
last  read  Consnelo  and  its  sequel,  La  Comtesse  de  Rudolstadt^ 
and  am  most  truly  grateful  to  him  for  making  me  read  them. 
The  former  is  a  most  exquisite  pure  tale.  It  is  much  like 
Wilhelm  Meister,  softened  and  smoothed  down  and  purified, 
in  the  strictest  sense  intellectual,  and  yet  not  originating 
intellectual  ideas  as  the  German  tale  does.  Music  is  in  a 
great  measure  the  theme  and  the  relation  of  art  (represented 
by  music)  to  human  life  and  affections.  Love  of  course  fills 
a  prominent  part.  Nor  can  I  recall  any  falsehoods  on  that 
score  in  Consuelo,  and  there  is  much  precious  truth.  The 
Communistic  idea  appears  quite  in  the  bud,  scarcely  separating 
itself  from  the  true  idea  of  brotherhood  which  it  mimics.  There 
are  most  strange  accounts  of  mediaeval  German  heretics  (for 
whom  G.  Sand  has  a  great  affection,  as  a  sort  of  anticipators 
of  Communism),  chiefly  Hussites,  worshippers  of 'Satan,'  whose 
chief  formula  of  benediction  was,  Que  celui  a  qui  Pon  a  fait  tort. 


te  salue^  meaning  thereby  that  before-mentioned  worthy.  The 
second  part  was  evidently  written  much  later.  It  shows  its 
author's  mind  much  confused  and  agitated,  with  the  strangest 
mixture  of  superstition  and  scepticism,  genuine  faith  and  cold 
negation.  It  is  full  of  strange  mysterious  incidents,  much 
connected  with  the  Rosicrucians,  Freemasons,  and  '  In 
visibles,'  a  sort  of  secretest  society  to  which  the  Masons 
formed  a  sort  of  outer  court,  Communism  being  the  grand 
secret  and  the  object  of  all.  There  are  near  the  end  some 
sublime  passages  on  the  subject  which  underlies  every  page, 
love,  full  of  glorious  assertions,  but  drawing  the  saddest  and 
wildest  conclusions.  There  is  not  the  smallest  trace  of  the 
notion  of  a  community  of  women,  as  I  had  imagined;  but 
G.  Sand  declares  marriage  to  be  an  unnatural  bondage,  never 
undertaken  for  love.  Nevertheless,  Balaam-like,  she  makes  her 
facts  often  assert  God's  truth  above  her  lies.  One  thing  is 
very  striking  in  the  aspect  of  Communism  which  she  presents. 
Property  as  such  and  political  privileges  never  appear ;  social  life 
is  the  subject;  she  wishes  that  each  may  receive  his  own  culture, 
and  do  his  own  work  for  himself  and  for  others  unoppressed 
and  unrestrained  by  kings  and  priests.  She  is  most  bitter 
against  Voltaire  and  the  *  common- sense '  philosophy  of 
'  Lok '  (as  she  calls  him),  and  all  who  like  him  virtually  think 
faith  degrading  and  mysteries  an  insult  to  human  reason.  But 
she  is  most  relentless  to  '  the  Church '  for  having  been  the 
enemy  of  humanity,  for  crushing  what  it  ought  to  have  edu 
cated.  O  that  her  charges  were  false  !  and  yet  no  !  —  then 
we  could  have  little  hope  for  the  future.  Our  task  it  is  to  do 
what  in  us  lies  to  make  the  Church  the  very  truest  and  fullest 
exponent  of  humanity.  By  all  means  read  the  books,  and  in 
the  original,  if  you  can  get  hold  of  them.  There  is  not  a 
rag  of  French  frippery,  scarcely  a  trace  of  French  prejudice 
about  them. 

When  you  are  next  at  a  railway  station,  expend  one  shilling 
upon  a  volume  of  the  Parlour  Library  called  Emilia  Wyndham. 
It  is  quiet,  unadorned,  perhaps  somewhat  dull ;  but  full  of 
much  high  and  beautiful  principle,  and  an  excellent  corrective 
and  complement  to  the  moral  of  the  end  of  The  Nemesis  of 
Faith.  I  do  trust  you  have  been  able,  or  will  be  able,  to  see 



Copperfield  and  Pendennis.  The  former  is  (excepting  the 
August  number,  which  is  dull)  exceedingly  beautiful,  with 
much  extravagance  pruned  off.  Without  in  the  least  ceasing 
to  be  Dickens,  he  has  learnt  much  from  Thackeray.  The 
latter's  tale,  though  not  so  pleasant,  is  invaluable.  To  me  the 
surest  sign  of  its  worth  is  that  I  never  read  anything  which  so 
really  and  completely  humbled  me,  which  made  conscience 
so  painfully  importunate,  while  at  the  same  time  it  did  not  in 
any  great  degree  encourage  churlishness  and  uncharitableness, 
as  was  the  tendency  of  Vanity  Fair.  There  are  of  course 
imperfections  and  affectations ;  but  a  more  faithful  picture  of 
what  we,  —  we  especially,  —  would  wish  to  blink,  I  never 


KESWICK,  September  nth,  1849.  ' 
...  I  forgot  the  other  day  to  ask  you  whether  you  had 
seen  some  time  ago  a  very  curious  decision  of  the  French 
Government,  refusing  to  recognise  the  French  Protestants  as 
having  a  religion  which  they  could  tolerate,  on  the  ground 
that  there  could  be  no  religion  without  a  sacrifice. 

I  look  forward  with  great  anxiety  to  the  decision  of  the 
Privy  Council's  committee,1  though  one  may  expect  strange 
things  from  a  theological  judgment  of  Lord  Brougham's.  It 
is  said  that,  if  the  judgment  of  the  Court  below  be  affirmed, 
hundreds  of  clergy  meditate  secession.  I  trust  this  is  not  the 
case.  It  is  very  sad  that  things  should  have  come  to  such  a 
pass  that  a  judicial  verdict  is  inevitable,  which  must  consign 
one  or  the  other  class  of  opinions  to  not  merely  actual  but 
legal  heterodoxy. 


AMBLESIDE,  September  27  th,  1849. 

.  .  .  You  will  of  course  have  Maurice's  wonderful  sermons 2 
this  time ;  if  not,  you  will  want  to  know  about  them.     I 
>uld  not  well  give  you  a  tolerable  account  of  them  in  even  a 
loderately  small  space ;  I  will  only  say  at  present  that  they 

1  In  the  Gorham  case.  2  On  the  Prayer-book. 

VOL.  I  I 


are  invaluable  indeed.  The  subjects  that  we  before  mentioned 
are  treated  of  only  incidentally,  but  there  are  some  very  preg 
nant  hints.  I  only  wish  there  were  more.  The  two  last,  on 
'The  Consecration  Prayer'  (in  the  H.  Communion)  and 
'  The  Eucharist,'  are  grand  beyond  expression.  If  you  have 
not  been  in  a  position  to  get  the  book,  pray  write  by  return 
of  post,  and  I  will  do  my  best  to  give  you  some  fuller 


AMBLESIDE,  October  $th,  1849. 

.  .  .  We  can  talk  about  English  reading  for  the  youthful 
Alexander  when  we  meet.  You  certainly  seem  to  have 
played  Aristotle  with  success  hitherto.  I  crave  your  pardon 
for  accusing  you  of  a  wish  to  moralise  everything.  I  feel  the 
temptation  so  often  and  so  strongly  myself,  in  spite  of  my 
vehement  sense  of  the  inherent  holiness  of  every  branch  of 
thought,  that  I  am  made  suspicious  of  the  same  thing  in 
others.  I  fear  that  in  a  subtle  form  it  discoloured  Arnold's 
mind.  Meanwhile,  without  saying  more,  I  must  raise  my 
voice  loudly  against  Pope's  Homer.  The  possible  advantages 
are  great,  but  the  dangers  are  incalculably  greater. 

Dreadful  as  war  is,  I  cannot  say  that  I  shrink  from  it,  if 
undertaken  in  such  a  cause  as  that  of  Turkey.  It  seems  in 
evitable  now. 

Crosthwaite  Church  is  hideous,  being  a  compound  of  every 
century  since  the  Debased.  Much  expense  has  been  lately  in 
curred  in  fitting  up  stalls,  putting  in  excellent  painted  glass, 
but  all  to  no  purpose  in  such  a  fabric.  I  was  not  much  struck 
by  Southey's  monument,  but  did  not  see  it  well. 

I  forget  whether  I  noticed  to  you  Hook's  noble  freedom 
from  party  spirit  and  brave  honesty  in  standing  forward  alone 
among  his  friends  publicly  to  support  the  Marriage  Bill.  I 
find  that  some  years  ago  Wilberforce  (I  suppose  Samuel  W.) 
urged  on  him  the  evil  of  party  spirit.  Hook  contended  that 
it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  have  a  party,  and  to  act  as  a 
member  of  one.  Maurice,  hearing  this,  publisht  a  letter  to 
Wilberforce  on  the  subject.  Hook  then  wrote  to  Wilberforce 

;E  21 


to  say  that  Maurice's  letter  had  quite  convinced  him,  and 
ice  then  he  has  never  done  a  factious  action. 

since  t 


CAMBRIDGE,  November  2nd,  1849. 

My  dearest  Mother — It  seems  quite  as  long  to  me  as  to 
you  since  we  separated.  .  .  .  On  Tuesday  all  lectures, examina 
tions,  and  '  coaches '  began,  and  ever  since  I  have  been  like 
the  donkey  in  the  mill  at  Carisbrook  Castle,  grinding  on  in  a 
perpetual  round  of  mathematics.  When  I  can  keep  awake  in 
the  evening,  I  read  from  seven  to  eight  hours  in  the  day  (ex 
aminations  included),  but  I  always  get  my  walk, — almost 
always  the  full  two  hours'  trot.  I  have  four  examinations  per 
week,  and  towards  the  end  of  the  month  the  College  adds  on 
another  per  week.  Meanwhile  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  I 
have  secured  Westcott1  for  classics  between  January  2oth  and 
February  lyth. 

...  It  would  of  course  be  impossible  for  you  to  dry 
brambles  at  Cheltenham,  but,  if  you  ever  get  to  the  lanes,  I 
should  be  much  obliged  if  you  would  notice  them.  The  most 
common  one  there,  I  know,  is  Rubus  discolor^  which  I  did  not 
see  in  the  Lakes.  Its  leaves  are  quite  white  underneath. 

Babington  has  only  turned  over,  not  examined,  my  Lake 
brambles  as  yet.  I  had  a  walk  with  him  to-day,  and  he  tells 
me  that  my  Buttermere  Potamogeton  is  most  probably  what  I 
supposed,  viz.  P.  fluitans,  which  has  not  before  been  found  in 
Britain.  He  says  it  is  smaller  than  the  continental  plant,  but 
it  is  certainly  not  one  of  the  known  British  species.  I  have 
not  missed  morning  chapel  more  than  four  or  five  times. 


CAMBRIDGE,  November  qth,  1849. 

.  .  Alford  has  published  the  first  volume  of  his  Greek 
"estament.     It  seems  good,  and  not  superstitious. 

1  i.e.  as  private  'coach.' 


To  THE  REV.  F.   D.  MAURICE 
TRINITY  COLLEGE,  CAMBRIDGE  [November  i6th,  1849]. 

My  dear  Sir — It  is  with  considerable  hesitation  that  I 
venture  to  trespass  upon  your  time,  already  so  fully  employed. 
I  am  not  even  able  to  plead  acquaintance  as  a  warrant  for  so 
doing.  Only  a  most  hearty  sense  of  inestimable  benefits 
already  received  leads  me  to  hope  for  fresh  assistance  from  the 
same  source.  And  in  this  respect  I  have  perhaps  some  claim 
upon  you.  Had  it  been  your  aim  to  make  us  your  disciples,  we 
must  have  been  content  to  swallow  whatever  crumbs  it  might 
please  you  to  scatter;  but  since  you  have  chosen  rather  to 
guide  us  in  to  the  old  ways  which  God  made,  and  not  you, — 
surely  the  aid  you  have  already  given  is  a  pledge  of  your 
willingness  to  assist  us  again  and  again  in  discerning  the  eternal 
order  among  all  the  confusions  that  beset  us,  and  to  bear  with 
the  perverseness  which,  more  than  anything  else,  blinds  our 
eyes.  I  have  therefore  resolved  to  ask  you  to  guide  me,  if 
you  can,  to  a  satisfactory  solution  of  a  question  which  has 
long  been  tormenting  me,  and  which  seems  now  to  be  felt 
universally  to  be  of  very  great  moment  indeed,  if  we  may 
judge  from  the  warmth  and  passion  which  both  sides  display. 
I  mean,  the  question  whether  any  man  will  be  hereafter 
punished  with  never-ending  torments,  spiritual  or  physical. 

It  would  be  far  too  much  to  say  that  I  do  not  believe  that 
any  man  will,  for  I  dare  not  rashly  and  hastily  discard  a  convic 
tion  entertained  by  nearly  all  Christians,  and  sanctioned,  as  it 
appears  to  me,  by  such  plain  language  in  the  Gospels  and 
Apocalypse,  as  well  as  in  our  Liturgy  and  the  Athanasian 
Creed.  There  is,  moreover,  this  great  difficulty  in  the  rejec 
tion  of  the  common  opinion  :  we  see  men  becoming  more 
hardened  in  impenitence  every  year  of  their  lives,  even  till 
death  itself.  If  there  be  any  further  state  of  probation  beyond 
the  grave,  it  will  still  be  monstrous  to  suppose  the  sin  re 
moved  suddenly  from  their  hearts  by  an  almighty  Fiat  without 
a  corresponding  willingness  on  their  part;  such  a  notion  is 
utterly  at  variance  with  the  idea  of  a  spirit  endowed  with  a 
will.  But  how  otherwise  can  we  be  sure  of  their  becoming 



purer  ?  There  is  no  more  reason  why  they  should  repent  then 
than  there  was  when  they  were  on  earth ;  nay,  there  is  less, 
for  the  longer  they  exist  the  harder  they  may  become ;  they 
must  retain  the  power  of  choosing  the  evil,  or  they  cease  to 
have  wills.  Many  would  say  that  pain  and  suffering  will 
purify  them ;  but  the  notion  that  this  result  must  ensue  owes 
its  existence  to  a  false  material  analogy  drawn  from  the  purga 
tion  of  the  passive  gold  from  its  dross  by  the  action  of  fire. 
If  we  could  believe  sin,  as  some  virtually  do,  to  be  merely  the 
shadowy  antecedent  of  the  substantial  consequent,  pain,  and 
heaven  to  consist  in  unlimited  selfish  enjoyment,  not  a  whit 
purer  than  a  Mahometan  Paradise  for  the  supposed  absence 
of  its  sensual  element,  then  there  might  be  little  difficulty  in 
supposing  men  after  a  certain  period  to  be  tossed,  sins  and  all, 
into  such  a  sty  of  '  bliss.'  But,  as  we  believe  heaven  to  be 
the  fullest  communion  with  God  in  His  most  immediate 
presence,  and  the  fullest  disposition  and  power  to  be  always 
working  His  Will,  none  but  those  who  have  been  separated 
from  their  sin  can  possibly  enter  into  its  joys.  For  others 
there  would  seem  to  be  only  two  alternatives — an  eternal  curse, 
and  annihilation.  I  have  never  been  able  to  see  the  alleged 
inconsistency  in  this  latter  notion ;  surely  what  God  has 
originated,  God  can  destroy,  be  it  spirit  or  matter;  yet  I 
cannot  get  rid  of  a  feeling  that  men  never  are  annihilated. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  not  only  are  the  Epistles  almost 
free  (as  far  as  I  can  recollect)  from  allusions  to  everlasting 
torments,  but  their  whole  tone  is  such  that  the  introduction  of 
such  a  notion  would  seem  to  render  it  discordant  and  jarring. 
And  little  as  I  like  to  rest  on  isolated  texts,  I  cannot  get  over 
the  words,  "As  in  Adam  all  die,  even  so  in  Christ  shall  all  be 
made -alive."  St.  Paul  cannot  mean  merely  the  universal 
redemption,  for  he  uses  the  future  tense  conformably  to  the 
whole  tenor  of  the  chapter,  and  is,  moreover,  speaking  of  the 
resurrection ;  further,  the  same  universality  is  given  to  the  one 
clause  as  to  the  other. 

Again,  where  is  the  answer  to  the  common  question,  "  You 
say  that  some  go  to  heaven,  some  to  hell ;  then  you  must  suppose 
a  line  separating  the  two  sets  of  men,  but  the  gradations  are 
infinite.  There  can  be  but  little  difference  between  the  worst 


of  the  former  class,  and  the  best  of  the  latter.  How  can  you 
make  their  future  lots  so  immeasurably  different  ?  "  Paley,  I 
hear  [?  fear],  replies  that  we  have  no  reason  for  believing  that 
there  fs  much  difference  between  the  lowest  place  in  heaven  and 
the  highest  in  hell !  !  This  answer  only  brings  out  the  difficulty 
in  greater  distinctness.  Say,  if  we  will,  that  the  language  here 
employed  indicates  a  corrupt  notion  of  merit  of  works  done 
just  exceeding  or  just  falling  short  of  the  price  which  God  has 
affixed  to  His  merchandise,  '  heaven ' ;  still  we  are  as  far  as 
ever  from  justifying  God's  ways.  Every  one  is  perpetually 
falling  ;  the  difference  is  but  slight  between  him  who  falls  at 
last  utterly  away,  and  him  who  just  succeeds  in  not  losing 
hold  of  his  Lord.  And  what  of  those  who  die  while  oscillating 
in  the  midst  ? 

Nor  do  I  see  how  to  dissent  from  the  equally  common 
Universalist  objection,  that  finite  sins  cannot  deserve  an 
infinite  punishment.  The  language  may  be  technical  and 
savouring  of  mere  abstractions,  but,  I  am  sure,  the  feeling 
which  finds  utterance  in  it  is  real  and  conscientious  enough. 
I  do  not  think  you  would  look  with  much  favour  on  the 
answer  given  a  few  Sundays  ago  from  the  pulpit  of  St.  Mary's 
by  a  Hulsean  lecturer.  We  were  told  that  the  mere  inquiry 
was  presumptuous  ;  that  "  we  know  absolutely  nothing  at  all " 
(I  quote  as  nearly  verbatim  as  I  can  from  memory)  "  of  God's 
nature,  or  any  of  His  attributes  " ;  "  nor  is  there  any  reason 
for  believing  that  when  the  Bible  speaks  of  the  goodness, 
justice,  and  mercy  of  God,  it  means  anything  which  bears  any 
rezemblance  to  what  we  call  justice,  goodness,  and  mercy." 
So  that  the  way  to  defend  what  is  presumed  to  be  an  essential 
doctrine  of  Christianity  is  by  denying  the  fact  of  a  revelation, 
in  any  living  sense  of  the  word  !  for  what  is  the  revelation  of  a 
Hell  ?  I  know  that  the  great  mass  of  those  against  whom  the 
Hulsean  lecturer  was  contending  is  greatly  infected  by  the 
disbelief  in  the  existence  of  retributive  justice,  which  is  now  so 
widely  spread  through  nearly  all  classes  of  people,  especially 
in  regard  to  social  and  political  questions,  which  causes  even 
men,  whose  theology  teaches  them  to  look  upon  God  as  a  vin 
dictive,  lawless  autocrat,  to  stigmatise  as  cruel  and  heathenish 
the  belief  that  criminal  law  is  bound  to  contemplate  in  punish- 


ment  other  ends  beside  the  improvement  of  the  offender  him 
self  and  the  deterring  of  others.  Still  the  consciousness  of 
this  fact  can  only  make  it  incumbent  on  us  to  examine  our 
ground  carefully, — it  cannot  require  us  to  surrender  a  truth, 
if  it  be  a  truth,  merely  because  it  is  now  the  property  of 
scarcely  any  but  such  as  have  become  heretics  while  re 
volting  against  the  popular  creed.  One  answer  has  sometimes 
suggested  itself  as  more  plausible  than  that  mentioned  above  ; 
namely,  that  the  sin  is  not  finite  but  infinite,  in  virtue  of  the 
fact  of  its  continued  self- reproduction — that  is,  that  the 
punishment  of  past  sin  is  increased  sin,  deserving  in  its  turn 
fresh  punishment.  And  yet  surely  the  heart  rebels  against 
such  a  theory  as  a  cruel  mockery  of  the  very  essential  spirit  of 
justice;  only  here  lies  the  difficulty — is  not  this  theory 
merely  the  expression  of  a  fact,  which,  however  we  may 
dispute  about  it,  is  a  fact  still?  does  not  God  punish  sin  by 
making  men  sin  afresh  ?  And  now,  having  reached  this 
point,  I  scarcely  know  where  to  go  on  and  where  to  end,  for 
hither  converge  multitudes  of  distracting  questions,  pervading 
every  region  of  theology,  to  which  I  have  never  been  able  to 
find  any  answer  but  this — "  God  is,  and  Evil  is ;  both  alike 
testify  their  own  reality.  If  the  Christian  faith  does  not 
harmonise  them,  at  least  it  is  therein  not  more  unsuccessful 
than  all  human  theories;  for  those  which  have  seemed  to 
solve  the  riddle,  have  merely  denied  the  facts,  and  contra 
dicted  the  testimony  of  their  whole  being."  Yet  I  am  confident 
that  there  must  be  some  deeper  answer  than  this  mere  con 
fession  of  ignorance — some  more  intelligent  way  of  resisting 
the  horrible  Manichseism  which,  under  both  its  primary  and 
its  secondary  forms,  is  in  a  thousand  dissimilar  ways  torturing 
and  tempting  our  hearts  and  consciences  every  hour  of  the 
day,  than  the  mere  ban  (potent  though  that  may  happily 
sometimes  be) — 

Receive  it  not,  believe  it  not, 
Believe  it  not,  O  man  ! 

Thus  there  is  the  question  of  Substituted  Punishment, 
which,  as  it  seems  to  me,  is  quite  distinct  from  the  Atonement 
and  reconciliation  of  the  person  of  sinning  man  and  God.  I 
can  at  most  times  thankfully  contemplate  the  fact  of  God's 


forgiveness  (in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word ;  that  is,  removal 
of  estrangement  from  the  offender,  irrespective  of  the  non- 
enforcement  of  penalties)  and  His  delight  in  humanity  as 
restored  through  its  Head;  but  surely  this  has  little  to  do 
with  the  principle  that  every  offence  must  receive  its  just 
recompense.  The  Father  may  forgive  the  child,  and  yet 
cannot  justly  exempt  him  from  the  punishment  of  disobedience. 
"  Amen  ! "  says  the  evangelical ;  "  the  penalty  must  be  paid 
somehow  by  somebody.  The  penalty  is  tortures  to  all  eternity 
for  each  man.  Christ,  in  virtue  of  the  infinity  which  He 
derived  from  His  Godhead,  was  able  on  earth  to  suffer 
tortures  more  than  equivalent  to  the  sum  of  the  eternal 
tortures  to  be  suffered  by  all  mankind ;  God  must  have  the 
tortures  to  satisfy  His  justice,  but  was  not  particular  as  to  who 
was  to  suffer  them, — was  quite  willing  to  accept  Christ's 
sufferings  in  lieu  of  mankind's  sufferings."  O  that  Coleridge, 
while  showing  how  the  notion  of  a  fictitious  substituted 
righteousness,  of  a  transferable  stock  of  good  actions,  obscured 
the  truth  of  man's  restoration  in  the  Man  who  perfectly  acted 
out  the  idea  of  man,  had  expounded  the  truth  (for  such,  I  am 
sure,  there  must  be)  that  underlies  the  corresponding  heresy 
(as  it  appears  to  me)  of  a  fictitious  substituted  penalty  !  All  my 
reverence  and  gratitude  to  him  who  first  taught  me  to  love  light 
and  to  seek  after  truth,  believing  that  it  is  God's  will  that  we 
should  attain  them,  and  that  He  Himself  will  guide  us  into 
them,  cannot  make  me  see  much  beside  dimness  (as  far  as  the 
present  question  is  concerned)  in  the  note  at  p.  239  of  the 
Aids  (fifth  edition).  Nor,  as  far  as  I  can  recollect,  have  you 
anywhere  written  explicitly  upon  this  point;  even  on  the 
corresponding  subject  of  vicarious  righteousness  I  know  only 
of  two  pages  (Kingdom  of  Christ,  ist  edition,  vol.  i.  pp.  32, 
33),  and  they  have  not  been  able  to  make  me  feel  assured 
that  the  language  of  imputation  is  strictly  true,  however 
sanctioned  by  St.  Paul's  example.  The  fact  is,  I  do  not  see 
how  God's  justice  can  be  satisfied  without  every  marts  suffering 
in  his  own  person  the  full  penalty  for  his  sins.  I  know  that  it 
can,  for  if  it  could  not  in  the  case  of  some  at  least,  the  whole 
Bible  would  be  a  lie ;  but  if  in  the  case  of  'some ',  why  not  of  all? 
A  reconciliation  of  the  person  may  be  dependent,  at  least  in 

AGE  21          CAMBRIDGE  :    UNDERGRADUATE  LIFE  121 

its  realization,  upon  its  acceptance  on  the  part  of  the  will ;  but 
how  does  this  apply  to  the  suffering  of  penalties  ? 

Again,  how  is  the  notion  that  God  punishes  sin  by  sin 
consistent  with  the  belief  that  God  is  not  and  cannot  be  the 
author  of  evil  ?  Is  there  not  something  strangely  significant 
in  the  extraordinary  language  of  Coleridge  in  the  last  four 
lines  of  p.  194  of  the  Literary  Remains,  vol.  i.  ?  The  texts 
cited  go  for  little,  but  surely  the  superficial  meaning  which 
Coleridge  seems  to  put  upon  them  is  inconsistent  with  a 
sound  theology. 

The  discussion  which  immediately  precedes  these  four  lines 
naturally  leads  to  another  enigma  most  intimately  connected 
with  that  of  everlasting  penalties,  namely,  that  of  the  person 
ality  of  the  devil.  It  was  Coleridge  who  some  three  years 
ago  first  raised  any  doubts  in  my  mind  on  the  subject — doubts 
which  have  never  yet  been  at  all  set  at  rest,  one  way  or  the 
other.  You  yourself  are  very  cautious  in  your  language; 
much  of  it  is  such  as  a  person,  who  was  convinced  of  the 
truth  of  the  common  opinion,  would  be  unlikely  to  use. 
The  only  positive  principle,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  that  you  assert 
is  this,  that  "  evil,  though  by  its  nature  multiform  and  contra 
dictory,  has  nevertheless  a  central  root."  This  certainly  is 
most  important ;  it  seems  as  if  it  must  be  so  in  the  nature 
of  things,  if  only  we  presuppose  the  existence  of  things  that 
are  evil,  as  facts  compel  us  to  do.  But  the  question  still 
remains — Is  this  central  root  personal  or  not?  Can  the 
power  of  origination  be  in  strict  truth  ascribed  to  anything 
except  a  will  ?  On  the  other  hand,  surely  the  continuity  of 
life  (or  existence — neither  word  exactly  expresses  my  meaning) 
of  a  person  depends  directly  on  the  operation  of  the  Word, 
unless  with  the  Manichaeans  we  set  up  two  grounds  of  being. 
Now  if  there  be  a  devil,  he  cannot  merely  bear  a  corrupted 
and  marred  image  of  God ;  he  must  be  wholly  evil,  his  name 
evil,  his  every  energy  and  act  evil.  Would  it  not  be  a  viola 
tion  of  the  divine  attributes  for  the  Word  to  be  actively  the 
support  of  such  a  nature  as  that  ?  And  so  in  the  present  day 
many  avoid  the  difficulty  by  the  monstrous  fiction  of  a  re 
generated  devil.  Thus  the  author  of  Festus  (as  I  am  told, 
for  I  have  not  read  the  poem)  supposes  him  finally  restored 


through  the  medium  of  a  genuine  human  affection  !  But 
does  not  this  suggest  that  no  image  but  God's  image  is 
possible  for  a  person  ?  May  I  take  this  opportunity  of  asking 
what  you  mean  (in  Kingdom  of  Christ,  first  edition,  vol.  i.  p. 
45)  by  the  phrase,  "  The  satisfaction  offered  to  the  evil  spirit, 
by  giving  up  to  him  all  that  he  can  rightly  claim,  while  all 
that  is  real  and  precious  is  redeemed  out  of  his  hands  "  ? 

There  is  yet  another  subject  of  the  utmost  importance, 
which  is  intimately  mixed  up  with  every  point  to  which  I  have 
alluded — indeed  the  Manichsean  controversy  embraces  and 
combines  them  all — I  mean,  the  opposition  of  'the  flesh' 
and  Spirit  which  the  Bible  speaks  of.  This,  I  suppose,  is  the 
truth  caricatured  in  the  ascription  of  Evil  to  matter ;  but  still 
I  cannot  see  where  the  truth  differs  from  the  most  deadly 
falsehood.  Only  the  expressions  used  by  both  you  and 
Coleridge  respecting  'nature'  as  essentially  evil,  seem  to 
point  to  a  wish  for  isolation — that  is,  a  hankering  after 
assimilation  to  mere  spiritless  creatures,  as  the  most  especial 
characteristic  of  moral  evil.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  there  is  a 
close  relation  between  this  idea  and  that  (whatever  it  may  be) 
which  underlies  sacrifice,  the  prohibition  of  the  eating  of  the 
blood,  circumcision  and  its  abolition,  and  finally  St.  Paul's 
mysterious  words,  "Without  shedding  of  blood  there  is  no 
remission  of  sins."  But  I  have  labored  so  utterly  in  vain  to 
apprehend  in  any  measure  what  this  idea  is,  that  I  hope  you 
will  deepen  and  widen  the  hints  you  have  already  given. 

I  am  quite  conscious  that  I  have  given  but  few  distinct 
objections  to  the  common  belief  in  what  I  have  written,  but 
so  indeed  it  must  be ;  language  cannot  accurately  define  the 
twinge  of  shrinking  horrour  which  mixes  with  my  thoughts 
when  I  hear  the  popular  notion  asserted  (even  without  the 
blasphemous  adjuncts  which  too  often  accompany  it),  and  it 
is  hard  to  ascribe  all  this  feeling  to  sentimental  weakness  and 
the  prevailing  Pantheism  which  (it  must  be  confessed  in 
humiliation)  most  dangerously  assaults  those  who  pride  them 
selves  most  on  their  freedom  from  it.  Certainly  in  my  case 
it  proceeds  from  no  personal  dread ;  when  I  have  been  living 
most  godlessly,  I  have  never  been  able  to  frighten  myself 
with  visions  of  a  distant  future,  even  while  I  'held'  the 

AGE  21          CAMBRIDGE  :    UNDERGRADUATE  LIFE  123 

doctrine.  But  hereafter  to  proclaim  it  as  part  of  the  Good 
Tidings,  this  is  the  paradox !  If  it  be  not  part  of  them,  and 
yet  be  true,  it  must  belong  to  the  Law.  But  where  do  we 
find  it  in  that  Old  Testament,  which  many  reject  as  so  cruel  ? 
And  that  the  doctrine  was  previously  unknown  is  tacitly 
asserted  by  those  champions  of  Christianity  who  think  it  the 
very  cream  of  the  Gospel.  There  is  also  surely  something 
significant  in  the  fact  of  St.  Augustin's  never  having  been 
able  to  free  himself  from  quasi-purgatorial  notions.  It  is,  to 
say  the  least  of  it,  as  reasonable  to  suppose  that  his  early 
struggles  enabled  him  to  be  more  sensitive  than  other  men  to 
the  virus  stealing  over  every  region  of  truth  from  the  fearful 
heresy  which  he  had  escaped,  as  to  slight  his  feelings  as 
those  of  one  who  recoiled  violently  from  one  error  into  the 

I  should  never  have  done,  were  I  to  enter  on  all  the  mani 
fold  difficulties  which  I  find  rising  up  daily  against  me  on 
both  sides  of  these  questions.  This  letter  is  already  quite 
disorderly  and  incoherent  enough;  but  if  I  attempted  to 
methodise  it,  it  would  probably  lose  whatever  genuine  con 
nection  now  subsists  between  the  several  topics.  I  should 
not  have  troubled  you  with  them  had  I  not  felt  that  a  mere 
notional  answer  to  isolated  questions  would  be  useless ;  only 
by  writing  on  such  a  series  of  kindred  points  could  I  enable 
you  to  separate  mere  speculation  from  real  conviction.  I 
hope  I  desire  not  opinions  but  light.  Busy  as  you  are,  I  hope 
you  will  suit  your  own  convenience  about  writing ;  it  is  quite 
enough  of  a  tax  upon  you  to  trouble  you  at  all,  only  the 
infinite  importance  to  myself  must  be  my  excuse. — Believe 
me,  my  dear  sir,  most  affectionately  yours, 



CAMBRIDGE,  November  30^,  1849. 

...  I  wrote  two  or  three  weeks  ago  to  Maurice  a  letter 
asking  help  on  Universalism,  Sathanas,  blood,  and  heaven  knows 
what  else  besides.  I  have  received  from  him  a  long  and  most 


magnificent — I  need  not  say,  most  kind — letter,1  which  you  shall 
see  in  a  few  days.  And  what  I  value  most  of  all,  he  hopes  I 
will  write  to  him  often,  and  call  on  him  when  I  am  in  London. 
For  the  present  A  Dieu. 


CAMBRIDGE,  Christmas  Day,  1849. 

I  had  fully  intended  that  you  should  have  a  line  this  day 
to  wish  you  all  the  manifold  blessings  of  this  ever  blessed 
season.  But  the  ceaseless  whirl  of  reading  carried  me  round, 
and  I  forgot  it. 

It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  that  I  screwed  out  time 
to  write  to  Maurice ;  and  that  I  should  have  deferred,  but  that 
the  question  was  daily  driving  me  mad.  His  letter  shall  either 
accompany  or  follow  close  upon  this.  W.  Howard  has  it  now  ; 
and  I  have  promised  to  lend  it  to  Blunt  (who  is  down  for 
three  or  four  days)  to  make  one  or  two  extracts  from  before  I 
forward  it  to  you.  These  two,  the  two  Macmillans,  and  a 
noble-hearted  friend  of  theirs,  a  Mr.  Gotobed,  an  uneasy 
Dissenter,  are  the  only  persons  who  have  seen  the  letter ;  and 
I  have  no  idea  of  showing  it  to  any  more.  ...  I  shall  send 
with  it  my  epistle,  not  that  you  may  spy  out  its  nakedness,  but 
because  the  letter  is  scarcely  fully  intelligible  without  it. 

January  igtA,  1850. 

Your  letter  has  just  found  me  in  a  sick  room.  ...  I  worked 
on  tolerably  well  up  to  the  examination,  and  passed  the  three 
days  seemingly  without  fatigue,  in  spite  of  two  nights  nearly 
sleepless  with  reading.  But  I  felt  my  throat  sore  on  the 
Saturday  night,  and  the  next  day  got  up  late  quite  ill,  and  sent 
for  Humphry  in  the  evening.  He  was  puzzled.  My  throat 
soon  got  worse  and  became  ulcerated ;  and  on  Tuesday  he 
pronounced  it  decided,  tho'  slight,  scarlatina.  My  father 
and  mother  came  up  on  Thursday  night  (and  stayed  till  last 
Tuesday),  not  from  there  being  anything  approaching  danger 

1  See  Maurice's  Life,  vol.  ii.  pp.  15-23. 

AGE  21 



(I  was  up  some  part  of  every  day)  but  to  relieve  my  mother's 
anxiety.  Meanwhile  I  am  fast  recovering,  only  'delicate,' 
the  worst  of  scarlatina  being  the  extraordinary  susceptibility  to 
any  disorder  which  it  leaves  behind  it.  The  cold  weather  has 
not  given  me  a  chance  of  getting  out ;  and  here  I  am  domiciled 
in  my  sitting-room  with  a  venerable  nurse,  biding  my  time,  and 
arranging  plants,  for  I  am  very  little  in  a  reading  humour.  In 
the  *  three  days ' l 1  did  tolerably,  not  altogether  to  my  satisfac 
tion,  and  yet  in  a  satisfactory  way,  with  a  large  proportion  of 
riders — in  short,  enough  to  show  me  that,  if  I  had  not  most 
culpably  idled  and  played  with  mathematics  all  my  course,  I 
should  have  taken  a  high  degree.  Now  tho'  the  '  three  days ' 
had  exclusively  been  my  work  for  the  last  term,  they  were  by 
no  means  my  cheval  de  bataille ;  and  I  had  counted  on  the 
intervening  week  for  refreshing  myself  in  Differential,  etc.  etc., 
and  looking  up  a  few  new  calculations;  and  tho'  the  'five  days' ' 
papers  have  been  hard,  I  think  I  should  have  shoved  into  the 
Wranglers.  But  Deo  aliter  visum.  I  much  fear  my  '  three  days' ' 
work  will  not  obtain  me  a  Senior  Op.,  which  will  lose  me  an 
all  but  certain  Chancellor's  Medal ;  still,  though  disposed 
enough  to  murmur,  I  know  it  is  most  wrong.  I  should  be 
thankful  that  my  illness  came  on  after  the  '  three  days,'  so  that 
I  am  still  left  the  Classical  Tripos. 

My  father  is  very  anxious  that  I  should  try  for  a  Fellowship. 
I  don't  know  what  to  say,  for  my  chance  is  very  small.  West- 
lake  will  smash  me  to  atoms  in  mathematics,  even  tho'  I 
read  them  still,  as  I  intend  doing ;  and  he  is  not  at  all  to  be 
despised  in  the  '  Moral '  paper.  Still  the  thought  pleases  me, 
and  I  shall  probably  read  '  Moral  Philosophy '  when  the  Tripos 
is  over,  'like  anything.'  I  understand  from  Romilly  that  a 
grace  will  probably  be  introduced  this  term  to  admit  our  year 
to  the  New  Triposes  2  of  1851  ;  if  it  passes,  I  shall  probably  go 
in  for  both,  which  will  involve  much  reading.  I  have  also  had 
dreams  of  the  Crosse,  but  I  am  so  ignorant  of  Hebrew  and, 
what  is  worse,  of  the  Greek  text  of  the  N.  T.,  that  I  have  all 
but  discarded  them.  Still  I  have,  as  you  see,  so  much  before 
me,  that  I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  the  Hulsean.  The 

1  The  first,  or  '  qualifying '  part  of  the  Mathematical  Tripos. 
2  In  Natural  and  Moral  Sciences. 


subject  is  tempting,  but  it  will  require  a  great  deal  of  out-of- 
the-way  reading. 

I  am  very  glad  you  have  fixed  on  a  curacy,  since  I  do  not 
pretend  to  judge  what  you  are  best  qualified  to  decide,  namely, 

as  to  leaving .  Your  neighbourhood  is,  I  should  think, 

delightful.  But,  man  alive,  what  do  you  mean  by  supposing 
I  shall  think  you  are  embracing  Might  duty'?  I  should 
think  you  will  have  abundance  to  do  if  the  parish  is  to  be  well 
worked.  As  for  huge  town  populations,  they  must  be  under 
taken,  if  God  puts  them  before  us,  but  as  for  doing  one's  duty 
to  all  as  one  would  wish,  the  thing  is  simply  impossible.  But 
I  am  sure  you  will  not  think  little  of  the  school ;  it  is  worth 
more  than  a  deal  of  cottage  visiting.  One  thing  more : 
generalising  hastily  from  a  few  Morning  Chronicle  letters,  I 
should  say  the  country  generally  is  more  wretched  and  godless 
than  the  towns  (excepting  London  and  its  appurtenances). 

...  I  have  alluded  once  or  twice  to  the  Morning  Chronicle. 
I  suppose  you  know  that  it  is  employing  able  and  honest  agents 
to  examine  thoroughly  the  state  of  '  Labour  and  the  Poor '  in 
the  manufacturing,  rural,  and  metropolitan  districts ;  reporting 
from  official  returns,  from  ocular  inspection,  and  from  the 
accounts  of  both  masters  and  men.  They  are  lavishing  large 
sums  on  it,  and  have  set  apart  a  department  of  the  office  to  it. 
The  clerks  work  at  it  voluntarily  at  extra  hours,  and  refuse  to  re 
ceive  extra  pay  for  such  work.  The  early  letters  not  having  been 
noticed,  and  many  persons  wishing  to  possess  the  whole,  they 
began  on  December  2  ist  to  publish  gratis  bi-weekly  supplements 
to  contain  a  reprint  of  all  letters  that  had  appeared  previously 
to  that  date.  Meanwhile  there  is  a  fresh  letter  every  day.  I 
regularly  take  in  a  half-price  copy,  which  I  mean  to  bind  up. 
Maurice  values  the  letters  so  highly  that,  occupied  as  his  time  is, 
he  has  the  paper  regularly  sent  him  and  reads  the  letter  every 
morning.  Kingsley  also,  I  heard,  wanted  to  get  a  daily  copy 
to  keep.  It  is  on  this  subject  that  the  article  in  Fraser  is,  and 
it  is  by  Ludlow ;  Macmillan  praises  it  immensely,  but  I  have 
not  read  it.  The  same  number  contains  a  most  noble  article 
of  Kingsley's  on  *  Sir  E.  B.  L.  Bulwer  and  Mrs.  Grundy,'  sug 
gested  by  Sir  E.  B.  L.'s  last,  The  Caxtons,  a  most  delightful  and, 
on  the  whole,  healthy  story,  which  gave  me  very  great  pleasure. 

AGE  21 



There  are  three  or  four  dull  spirts  at  Coleridge  and  Cole- 
ridgians  in  the  English  Review,  but  the  article  to  which  you 
allude  is  rich  in  the  extreme.  It  begins  with  an  attack  on 
Maurice's  vanity,  on  his  shallow  criticism,  and  weakness.  He 
is,  it  seems,  a  clever  sort  of  person  whom  it  tickles  to  write 
books,  which  might  be  readable,  only  he  will  write  on  theology 
and  philosophy ;  and  unfortunately  intellect  is  just  what  Mr. 
Maurice  does  not  possess.  We  are  informed  (the  n  +  mth 
theory  of  Hamlet)  that  Shakspeare  meant  Hamlet  as  a  type  of 
vapid  '  Germanism,'  of  the  dull  '  formless  Teutonic  mind '  !  !  ! 
Kingsley  they  greatly  like,  and  think  him  a  fine  poet,  only  the 
fear  is  that  he  will  fall  into  Maurice's  clutches  and  get  spoiled. 
"  We  have  heard  that  Mr.  Kingsley  holds  extreme  democratical 
opinions,  and  that  he  has  been  even  mixed  up  with  the 
Chartists,  but  this  we  cannot  possibly  believe."  The  article  is 
clearly  the  production  of  a  mere  boy. 

Many  thanks  for  your  invitation  to  Easebourne ;  I  hope 
some  day  to  take  advantage  of  it.  I  fancy  you  will  like 
Manning,  but  not  very  much ;  his  last  dedication  to  Bishop 
Selwyn  (whose  letter  on  colonisation  I  hope  you  saw)  pleased 
me  much.  Maurice  says  he  is  too  'circular'  a  man — you 
know  his  phrase,  too  much  of  'an  intellectual  all-in-all.' 

I  do  trust  you  will  contrive  to  read  Shirley.  I  have  not 
had  so  rich  a  feast  for  so  long  a  time.  All  the  morbidness  of 
Jane  Eyre  gone,  and  we  have  the  freshest  and  most  glowing 
pictures  and  the  soundest  and  most  needful  principles,  saving 
and  except  the  authoress's  unbounded  hatred  of  curates. 

The  expedition  to  Iceland  seems  not  to  have  very  favour 
able  auspices, — at  least  I  fancy  they  don't  know  much  about 
it,  but  I  hope  to  hear  more  of  it,  as  Babington  has  written  to 
Prof.  Daubeny.  Babington  himself  has  been  there,  and  knows 
the  difficulties  and  expenses ;  in  all  probability,  if  I  went  at  all, 
I  should  go  alone  with  him,  but  I  fear  the  expense  is  too 
great.  This  is  quite  distinct  from  the  talked-of  voyage  to  the 
Hebrides,  Orkneys,  etc. 

I  am  quite  ashamed  of  having  forgotten  the  Football  Rules 
all  the  winter.  Our  Club  Rules  are  as  bad  as  bad  can  be, 
having  a  basis  of  the  vile  Eton  system  for  making  skill  useless 
with  merely  one  or  two  Rugby  modifications.  On  the  other 


hand,  our  Rugby  rules  are  very  complicated  and  hard  to  learn 
(though  excellent),  and  require  much  explanation.  If  I  can 
find  them,  you  shall  have  a  copy,  but  I  will  not  delay  this  letter 
to  look  for  them. 

I  feel  greatly  tempted  to  go  off,  as  you  request,  on  politics, 
but  this  is  the  seventh  sheet,  and  I  had  better  wait  a  little. 
As  for  slavery,  Carlyle  had  a  most  extraordinary  article  in  the 
last  Fraser  but  one,  which  has  been  very  much  abused.  The 
drift  of  it  is  this :  the  W.  Indies  are  going  to  rack  and  ruin, 
for  laborers  won't  work ;  niggers  like  pumpkin  and  idleness ; 
niggers  never  did  any  good  yet,  have  no  enterprise,  no  nothing. 
Man's  highest  business  is  work;  if  niggers  won't  work,  they 
must  be  made  to  work,  of  course  for  pay.  There  is  really 
something  in  the  article,  though  put  paradoxically.  J.  S.  Mill 
has  answered  it  fiercely  in  the  last  number ;  it  seems  quiet  and 
plausible  enough,  but  in  the  vital  principles  of  his  reply  there 
is  more  Red  Republicanism  than  in  anything  I  ever  read.  I 
do  not  know  Kingsley's  precise  opinions,  but  infer  from  his 
writings  that  he  is  communistically  disposed  ;  I  know  also  that 
he  and  Maurice  have  battles  on  the  subject.  There  is  also 
significance  in  the  fact  that  one  of  his  sermons  praises  the 
benevolence  of  a  Benefit  Society.  Whatever  you  think  of  me, 
do  not  suppose  me  to  wish  to  rest  on  any  respectabilities  or 
conventions  whatever ;  thus  much  at  least  Carlyle  has  taught 
me,  I  hope  for  ever.  If  rank,  station,  wealth  have  no  deeper 
foundation,  they  must  fall,  and  will  fall.  I  am  glad  you  like 
Consuelo  ;  you  will  scarcely  understand  Albert,  and  his  position 
with  respect  to  the  moral  of  the  story,  till  you  read  the  mar 
vellous  sequel,  La  Comtesse  de  Rudohtadt,  a  strange  wild  chaos 
of  thoughts,  but  instructive  beyond  measure. 

The  following  is  Hort's  first  note  to  Mr.  Westcott, 
then  his  classical  '  coach  ' : — 

To  MR.  B.  F.  WESTCOTT 

TRINITY  COLLEGE,  Monday  [Jamtary  1850  (?)]. 

My  dear  Sir — Having  been  laid  up  by  a  slight  attack  of 
scarlatina  ever  since  the  conclusion  of  the  'three  days,'  I 



am  still  unable  to  leave  my  room,  and  have  no  chance  of  being 
able  to  do  so  while  this  unfavorable  weather  lasts ;  I  fear  I 
must  therefore  defer  reading  with  you  for  a  few  days.  Mean 
while,  however,  I  shall  be  much  obliged  if  you  will  send  me 
two  or  three  pieces  for  composition,  that  I  may  at  least  make 
an  attempt  to  do  something,  as  I  have  not  yet  begun  to  work. 
—Believe  me,  faithfully  yours,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 




CAMBRIDGE,  February  Jth,  1850. 
My  dear  Ellerton — I  don't  know  how  it  is  that  your  two 

most  kind  notes  have  been  so  long  unanswered,  but  the  time 
flies  fast  and  unheeded  as  the  Classical  Tripos  approaches.  I 
am  reading,  or  rather  writing,  with  Westcott  daily,  and  I  hope 
getting  some  good.  I  hear  the  betting  is  equal  on  Beamont, 
Schreiber,  and  myself,  and  altogether  I  have  enough  to  en 
courage  me,  though  I  am  not  working  with  much  spirit. 

I  don't  think  I  shall  go  in  for  the  Crosse,  or  Tyrwhitt 
either,  though  I  am  most  culpably  ignorant  of  the  really 
essential  'cram'  which  belongs  to  the  former.  I  still  waver 
at  the  Hulsean.  If  I  could  not  go  in  for  the  New  Triposes,  I 
should  probably  try;  but  it  is  now  all  but  certain  that  1 
can,  and  both  are,  I  fear,  too  much.  The  Master  has  just 
announced  the  special  books  for  his  part  of  the  Examination  of 
'51  :  viz.  Plato,  Charm.,  Prot.,  Rep.  I. ;  Aristotle,  Nicomachean 
Ethics ;  Cicero  de  finibus;  Grotius  de  jure  belli  et  pads,  bk.  i. ; 
and  Dugald  Stewart's  Outlines  of  Moral  Philosophy  ;  and  as  a 
special  subject,  '  Of  Things  Allowable,'  besides  a  less  accurate 
knowledge  of  all  moral  philosophers  of  note,  a  list  being  given. 
The  set  is  most  wretched ;  and  I  have  a  strong  idea  of  writing 
to  Maurice  to  ask  for  a  short  scheme  of  philosophical  reading. 
This,  some  Theology,  and  Politics  with  especial  reference  to 
Communism,  I  hope  to  make  my  chief  subjects  of  study  for 
the  next  three  or  four  years. 

Read  Lady  Alice,  or  the  New  Una  if  you  can,  and  don't 
be  frightened  by  its  apparent  (and,  in  part,  real)  Morning 
Postism.  In  spite  of  glaring  faults,  it  is  a  noble  book — most 
VOL.  I  K 


noble,  considering  the  quarter  from  which  it  seemingly  comes, 
sentimental,  all-but-Romish  high  aristocracy.  It  contains  few 
personages  of  '  lower '  station  than  Marquises  and  Duchesses, 
and  their  sons  and  daughters ;  and  yet  every  character  is  a 
genuine  man  or  woman  of  some  stamp  or  other. 


CAMBRIDGE,  February  8t/t,  1850. 

...  A  letter  has  to-day  reacht  the  Macmillans  from 
Maurice,  the  substance  of  which  he  wishes  to  have  conveyed 
to  all  who  feel  any  interest  in  him,  with  the  assurance  that  he 
is  deeply  interested  in  its  subject.  He  and  *  his  friends '  have 
set  up  a  journeyman  tailor's  joint  establishment,  with  shared 
profits ;  the  same  is  in  progress  for  needlework.  Item  they 
are  going  to  issue  a  series  of  tracts  called  Tracts  on  Christian 
Socialism,  the  first  a  dialogue  by  himself.  I  need  not  say  I 
look  forward  to  them  with  the  most  intense  interest ;  if  they 
merely  advise  these  sort  of  things,  i.e.  an  extension  of  the 
benefit-society  principle  to  particular  trades,  well  and  good, 
provided  they  don't  talk  nonsense  about  people  being  fraternal 
and  benevolent  because  they  take  part  in  a  good  investment 
for  their  money  or  labor.  If  they  assert  that  Society  itself 
and  human  relations  should  rest  on  the  same  principle,  woe 
woe  to  them  !  so  at  least  I  feel.  I  have  pretty  well  made  up 
my  mind  to  devote  my  three  or  four  years  up  here  to  the 
study  of  this  subject  of  Communism  more  than  any  but  the 
kindred  topics  of  Theology  and  Moral  Philosophy. 


March  6th,  1850. 

My  dear  Ellerton — I  fear  you  will  have  been  wondering 
what  in  the  world  has  become  of  me  that  I  have  not  written 
to  you  to  congratulate  you.1  .  .  .  But  how  to  congratulate  you 

3  On  his  ordination. 


I  scarcely  know  —  happily  you  need  no  formal  assurance 
how  deeply  and  heartily  I  'give  you  joy.'  To  receive  the 
commission  given  to  the  Apostles,  to  be  the  consecrated  herald 
of  the  One  Holy  Catholic  Church  to  men  torn  asunder  and 
set  one  against  the  other  by  wilfulness  and  slavishness — but  I 
need  not  go  on  with  what  you  know  as  well  as  I  do — all  these 
are  blessings  for  which  I  may  well  envy  you.  But  my  time  is 
not  yet  come.  ...  I  have  brought  down  here  single  volumes 
of  Fleury,  Bingham,  Guericke,  S.  Chrysostom  de  Sacerdotio, 
Origenis  contra  Cdsum,  and  S.  Cyprian's  Epistles,  to  begin 
upon  the  Hulsean,  but  have  not  read  or  written  a  word  yet. 
I  have  also  brought  a  little  Moral  Philosophy  and  Modern 
History  to  read  for  the  Moral  Sciences  Tripos.  I  hope  in  four 
or  five  days  to  hear  the  result  of  the  Classical  Tripos.  I  ven 
ture  to  make  no  prophecies,  but  will  only  say  that,  tho'  I 
made  heaps  of  mistakes,  I  was  on  the  whole  more  than 
satisfied.  ...  Of  course  you  have  seen  No.  i  of  the  Tracts 
on  Christian  Socialism,  i.e.  Maurice's  dialogue  between  No 
body  and  Somebody.  I  will  try  hard  to  write  at  length  to 
you  on  that  point  very  soon. 


BATH,  March  igth,  1850. 

I  write  this  to-night,  intending  to  send  it  in  the  morning  in 
company  with  a  Tripos  list  which  I  hope  to  receive  from 
Blunt  by  to-morrow's  post.  Macmillan  sent  me  one  to-day. 
.  .  .  After  all,  really,  culpably,  idle  as  I  have  been,  I  cer 
tainly  have  not  the  least  right  to  complain  because  I  am 
bracketed  3rd.  I  am  quite  ashamed  to  think  how  gloomy 
and  discontented  I  have  been  this  afternoon  since  receiving 
the  list,  in  spite  of  many  a  gentle  monition  from  "  Him,  the 
Giver,"  that  it  is  still  He  "  who  satisfieth  my  mouth  with  good 
things,  making  me  young  and  lusty  as  an  eagle."  Meanwhile 
He  has  even  now,  I  venture  to  think,  given  me  a  far  more 
precious  gift  than  a  degree.  The  greatest  service  you  can  do 
for  me  is  to  pray  that  I  may  not  need  herein  too  to  have  my 
selfish  pride  bruised,  in  order  to  be  fitted  for  His  holy  service. 


.  .  .  Very  many  thanks  for  —  — 's  most  interesting  letter, 
which  I  return.  It  is  glorious,  indeed,  to  think  that  Maurice 
should  penetrate  even  /such  crusts  of  antique  bigotry,  but 
thirsty  souls  who  long  for  light  will  welcome  it  whencesoever  it 
comes.  May  God  bless  you  in  all  your  future  work,  as  He 
seems  to  have  blest  you  already. 


BATH,  March  i  $th  and  April  gth,  1850. 

My  dear  Ellerton — I  believe  it  will  be  best  for  me  to  write 
specially  in  answer  to  your  last.  ...  I  believe  the  best  mode 
of  introducing  some  kind  of  method  will  be  to  follow  Maurice's 
example,  and  try  to  give  you,  in  the  first  instance,  a  rapid 
sketch  of  the  processes  which  I  have  myself  traversed.  This 
way  will,  in  fact,  be  a  direct  answer  to  your  original  question 
how  I  have  come  to  diverge  from  our  former  common  track 
of  politics.  But  you  must  not  expect  me  to  be  certainly 
accurate  in  details.  I  must  claim  the  indulgence  which 
Maurice  himself  so  generously,  yet  so  justly,  grants  to  New 
man,  for,  as  he  says,  in  such  cases  the  most  rapid  changes 
and  rechanges  are  nothing  extraordinary,  and  chronology  must 
be  in  a  great  measure  disregarded. 

I  believe  you  know  that  my  father  being,  to  use  his  own 
phrase,  a  '  Conservative  Whig,'  I  was  originally  something  of 
the  kind,  I  didn't  exactly  know  what,  only  I  fancy  I  had  great 
faith  in  the  '  admirably  balanced  constitution '  of  Kings, 
Lords,  and  Commons,  tho'  I  always  kicked  against  the 
maxim,  *  The  King  can  do  no  wrong.'  Arnold  made  me  really 
see  the  dignity  and  glory  of  politics,  tho'  a  certain  indefined 
feeling  of  Liberalism  was,  I  think,  nearly  all  the  positive 
political  creed  that  I  derived  originally  from  him ;  but  under 
this  influence  .1  quite  sympathised  with  Peel  on  Maynooth 
and  one  or  two  such  questions.  Accordingly,  at  the  Rugby 
Debating  Society  I  at  first  joined  the  Conservative  side,  tho' 
in  speaking  I  was  generally  intermediate.  I  then  read  Arnold 
more,  and  became  more  positively  Whig-Radical.  When  the 
Corn  Laws  were  repealed  I  said  that  Conservatism  existed  no 

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longer.  I  could  not  be  a  Tory,  and  so  shifted  to  the  Whig 
side  of  the  House.  Just  before  I  left  I  was  made  quite  wild 
by  Carlyle's  Cromwell,  which  I  swallowed  whole,  and  became 
a  mere  worshipper  of  Cromwell,  thinking  myself  a  Radical. 
Coming  up  to  Cambridge  I  was  much  the  same,  tho'  I 
began  somehow  to  feel  how  very  unliberal  and  unradical 
Cromwell  was. 

Coleridge's  influence  went  for  something  in  abating  my 
furor,  but  Arnold  became  my  almost  sole  Doctor  in  politics. 
Such  or  similar  was  my  condition  when  I  began  to  know  you, 
and  indeed  nearly  all  the  while  we  were  together.  I  am 
bound  to  confess  that  the  Politics  for  the  People  were  too 
readily  swallowed.  I  did  not  enough  consider  what  I  was 
about,  or  remember  that  professedly  the  writers  in  it  were  at 
variance  with  each  other.  Hence  the  only  body  of  my  Chartism 
was  what  Arnold  had  taught  my  conscience.  All  the  rest  was 
vague  sentiment  and  theory. 

In  the  following  autumn  the  3rd  vol.  of  Maurice's  King 
dom,  ist  ed.,  made  some  impressions  upon  me,  but  only 
vague  and  disconnected  impressions.  Meanwhile  I  found 
myself  compelled  to  resolve  in  good  earnest  the  questions  to 
which  in  reading  the  Politics  I  had  given  a  hasty  assent,  and 
such  as  resulted  from  them.  Political  rights  in  the  abstract 
were  the  prominent  feature.  Ludlovv  had  spoken  of  Uni 
versal  Suffrage,  and  I  said  '  Aye.'  But  why  ?  Because  every 
man  of  full  age  and  compos  mentis  had  a  right  to  a  vote.  And 
why  had  he  a  right  to  a  vote  ?  Because  all  government  that  is 
not  self-government  is  old-world  tyranny.  The  only  question 
was,  What  was  the  best  form  of  government  for  making  it  bona 
fide  self-government  ? 

But  then  came  the  recollection  of  an  argument  which 
at  Rugby  Bradby,  a  clever  and  thoughtful  Young  Englander, 
had  given  (from  Coleridge)  against  universal  suffrage,  viz.  that 
a  limit  must  be  assigned  to  voters,  otherwise  why  not  include 
women  and  children  ?  I  had  formerly  simply  *  pooh-poohed  ' 
the  argument.  I  now  felt  no  real  answer  to  it,  but  by  ad 
mitting  the  consequences.  Practically  children  might  be  ex 
cluded,  but  why  exclude  women  ?  Whether  or  no  they  had 
a  different  mental  constitution  from  men,  at  least  they  were 


educated,  they  could  form  opinions,  they  were  individual 
human  beings ;  why  should  they  surrender  their  rights  as 
such?  It  might  be  expedient  for  a  while  to  exclude  them, 
even  as  they  had  always  been  excluded ;  but  this  touched  not 
my  point,  whether  in  a  right  and  normal  state  of  things  they 
would  not  have  equal  political  rights  with  men.  I  do  not 
think  I  ever  absolutely  assented,  but  for  a  long  while  I  could 
find  no  reason  for  refusing  assent.  But  I  became  soon  more 
and  more  sensible  that,  in  the  state  at  which  I  had  arrived  in 
the  process  of  making  democracy  more  and  more  pure,  I 
had  been  making  individualism  the  true  primal  characteristic 
of  humanity,  the  relations  of  society  but  secondary — had,  in 
short,  been  thinking  as  if  a  man  could  only  be  right  when 
contemplated  apart  from  his  fellows.  This  conclusion  per  se 
was  not  agreeable  to  my  strong  disgust  (drawn  from  Cole 
ridge)  against  the  French  Encyclopedist  theories  of  man  being, 
in  the  first  instance,  savage  and  then  by  degrees  civilising  him 
self  by  experience.  But,  what  was  stronger,  this  view  of 
political  rights  plainly  set  aside  the  idea  of  family ;  such  an 
idea  could  consistently  be  but  an  accidental  and  non-essential 

A  society,  however  democratic,  yet  composed  of  a  number 
of  individual  bodies  possessing  each  an  unity  within  itself,  did 
not  satisfy  the  desiderata  of  my  primal  numerical  troop  of 
human  beings ;  but  this  led  to  and  involved  yet  deeper  con 
siderations.  When  talking  of  a  nation  it  is  easy  to  think  of 
all  men  as  on  the  same  level;  but  when  we  get  into  the 
narrower  region  of  a  family,  we  find  its  members  bearing  to 
each  other  de  facto  the  most  various  relationships.  It  is  not 
easy  to  persuade  oneself  that  father  and  son  possess  a  merely 
fraternal  relation  to  each  other.  But  above  all,  is  the  autho 
rity  (or  whatever  name  you  choose  to  give  it)  of  father  over 
son,  of  husband  over  wife,  a  purely  factitious  and  unnatural 

This  is  the  root  of  the  matter.  Leaving  out  the  latter  case, 
we  find  the  former  acknowledged  virtually  by  the  common 
consent  of  mankind  to  be  the  type  of  all  authority,  regal  or 
otherwise;  even  were  it  not  so,  knock  down  all  political 
authority,  commonly  so  called,  and  you  will  still  have  this 

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paternal  authority  obnoxious  to  all  the  objections  which  beset 
authority  generally,  and  no  one  will  pretend  that  it  merely  arises 
from  the  consent  of  the  son  to  be  governed.  Possibly  then 
this  authority  too  must  needs  go ;  only,  not  merely  factitious 
institutions,  but  every  monition  of  conscience  and  reason 
must  go  with  it.  That  which,  however  abused,  does  still  seem 
the  main  bond  of  order  to  society,  the  channel  through  which 
all  education  must  (ideally)  flow  so  long  as  men  have  not  the 
power  of  begetting  full-grown  men — full-grown  in  mind  and 
body — that,  it  seemed,  must  give  way  to  the  imperious  require 
ments  of  our  theory,  itself  founded,  as  it  seemed,  on  equally 
deep  and  universal  principles.  All  this  is  and  was  inde 
pendent  of  the  teaching  of  the  Bible,  which  I  do  not  think  you 
will  be  willing  to  allow  to  be  quite  beside  the  point.  For  my 
own  part,  whatever  else  might  be  true,  I  could  not  and  would 
not  give  up  the  divine  and  permanent  Tightness  of  the  paternal 
authority ;  and  so  for  a  while  I  remained,  of  course  not  exactly 
quiescent,  but  oscillating  in  erratic  curves;  what  I  tell  you, 
however,  was,  I  believe,  my  punctum  medium. 

Now  in  all  this  theory  there  was,  I  think,  a  vague  notion 
interfused  that  obedience  to  authority,  however  warranted  by 
occasional  circumstances,  has  in  it  somewhat  of  an  essentially 
servile  nature.  But  about  this  time  I  had  constantly  in  my 
mind  that  wonderful  reconciliation  of  half  the  theological 
enigmas  which  ever  have  arisen,  which  Maurice  points  out  in 
one  of  his  sermons  on  the  Temptation,  and  expounds  more 
fully  (tho',  I  think,  not  so  forcibly)  in  one  of  his  latter 
Prayer-book  series l  on  the  Consecration  Prayer.  He  reminds 
us  how  "  worldly  men  in  their  carnal  and  proud  hearts  cannot 
conceive  how  the  Father  commands  because  the  Son  obeys, 
and  the  Son  obeys  because  the  Father  commands." 

This  had  for  some  time  given  to  me  a  most  blessed  and 
practical  solution  of  the  question  of  Free  Will.  I  dared  not 
apply  the  term  l  servile '  to  this  loving  and  willing  yet  eternal 
obedience  of  the  Son  "  begotten  before  all  worlds  "  ;  yet  surely 
it  was  the  fullest,  completest  obedience,  the  perfect  type  of  all 
imperfect  obedience  on  earth,  and  likewise  was  the  authority 

1  Christmas  Day,  and  other  Sermons,  Sermon  xii.  p.  160  (ist  ed. 


of  the  Father  the  fullest,  completest  authority,  the  perfect  type 
of  all  imperfect  authority  on  earth.  This  fundamental  doctrine 
of  the  filial  subordination  of  the  Son  from  all  eternity  (in  no 
wise  interfering  with  His  co-eternity  and  co-equality  with  the 
Father)  is  hard  to  receive,  and  will  always  be  rejected  when 
the  understanding  seeks  to  exert  an  universal  empire ;  yet  I 
fully  believe  that  it  is  the  keystone  of  theology  and  humanity, 
and  that  without  it  men  must  '  confound  the  Persons.'  It  is 
very  remarkable  that  Coleridge,  in  spite  of  his  underlying 
tendency  to  Sabellianism,  which  (as  it  seems  to  me)  gives 
evident  tokens  of  its  presence  in  his  Literary  Remains,  clung 
with  such  determined  energy  to  this  doctrine  that  he  rejected 
the  Athanasian  Creed  mainly  because  it  seemed  to  him  to  be 
silent  about  it,  if  not  to  deny  it  by  implication.  Thousands 
of  persons  who  do  not  dream  of  rejecting  St.  John's  Gospel, 
would  be  horrified  at  its  distinct  enunciation,  concluding 
(correctly  enough,  according  to  logic)  that  it  is  incompatible 
with  the  belief  of  the  equality  of  the  Three  Persons  of  the 
Trinity.  And  I  am  now  persuaded  that  this  same  scepticism 
of  the  carnal  understanding  is  what  makes  us  confound  obedi 
ence  on  earth  with  slavery,  authority  with  tyranny ;  and  set 
down  freedom  as  inconsistent  with  obedience.  And  I  am 
likewise  persuaded  that  practically  men  gain  this  seemingly 
impossible  reconciliation  in  and  through  that  same  Spirit  in 
whom  the  Son  and  the  Father  are  (I  do  not  now  say  one 
— that  is  another  question)  equal. 

In  conjunction  with  this  idea  I  found  great  help  in  one 
somewhat  different,  at  least  in  form.  Maurice,  in  the  Politics, 
discusses  the  fundamental  axioms  from  which  Mill  deduced 
Universal  Suffrage.  The  first  was,  "Government  was  made 
for  man,  and  not  man  for  government."  The  first  half 
Maurice  allows ;  the  second  is,  he  says,  ambiguous :  if  it 
means  that  man  was  not  made  to  be  governed,  it  is  false.  I 
do  not  recollect  Maurice's  arguments ;  the  idea  was  pregnant 
enough  in  itself.  You  must  have  observed  that  nearly  all  demo 
cratic  theorists  lose  sight  of  God's  government  of  mankind ; 
if  reminded  of  it,  they  say,  "  Oh  yes  !  we  know  that, — that  of 
course  superintends  everything,  but  we  are  thinking  of  the 
government  of  men  by  men."  If,  however,  the  analogy  of 

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God's  dealings  with  men  in  other  matters  is  to  be  here  pre 
served,  we  must  start  from  God's  government,  and  make  that 
the  central  idea  of  all  our  speculations.  Men  therefore,  I  say, 
are  made  to  be  governed  by  God.  They  are  not,  in  the  first 
instance,  free  from  superior  controul;  this  is  the  essential 
point.  Whether  or  not  democracy  be  true,  men  are  ideally, 
normally  in  their  right  state  only  when  they  obey  a  law  not 
of  their  own  creation.  I  appeal  to  you  whether  this  doctrine 
is  not  really  as  opposed  to  the  general  broad  axiom  that  no 
reasonable  being  can  be  bound  by  what  he  has  not  consented 
to,  as  any  Tory  doctrine  is ;  and  if  that  axiom  be  not  general 
and  broad,  I  do  not  see  what  foundation  it  can  ever  seem  to 
have  to  a  reasonable  man. 

But  further,  the  Bible  surely  teaches  us  that  every  function 
among  men  is  a  copy  of  some  Divine  function,  and  not  a 
copy  only,  but  an  operative  and  representative  image  of  it, 
Thus  human  priests  are  representatives  of  the  High  Priest, 
not  substitutes  or  vicars  for  Him,  but  discharging  partially  His 
functions  to  men,  setting  forth  what  He  is ;  fathers  likewise 
represent  the  Great  Father,  and  so  with  other  functions. 

Surely  it  is  most  natural  to  suppose  that,  analogously  to  the 
other  parts  of  this  Divine  plan,  we  shall  have  representative 
kings,  setting  forth  the  Divine  King  of  mankind,  deriving  their 
authority  and  commission  directly  from  Him,  and  in  no  wise 
invested  with  them  merely  by  the  free-will  of  their  subjects, 
'  the  people.' 

But  we  should  also  naturally  expect  that  many  rulers  would 
seek  to  hold  power  by  a  very  different  tenure,  not  to  exhibit 
themselves  as  true  officers  of  the  Righteous  Governor  of  all 
by  themselves  exercising  Righteous  Government,  but  to  set 
up  their  own  will  as  law,  delighting  not  in  doing  what  is  right, 
but  what  they  pleased ;  such  a  kingship  God  Himself  cannot 
exercise.  By  the  very  law  of  His  nature  His  will  must  be  a 
righteous,  cannot  be  an  arbitrary  will,  and  that  righteous  will  is 
the  true  fountain  of  law  for  all  who  bear  His  title  of  king.  Such, 
briefly,  I  believe  to  be  God's  primal  plan  for  the  government 
of  the  nations.  Men  have  caused  all  sorts  of  deviations  from 
it,  even  as  myriads  of  sects  and  heresies  have  obscured  the 
true  type  of  the  Church.  The  more  fully,  as  I  believe,  that 


this  plan  is  carried  out,  the  more  perfect  will  be  the  liberty  of 
subjects,  the  more  will  all  arbitrary  and  unjust  barriers  be 
broken  down ;  for  neither  for  God,  nor  angel,  nor  man  can 
I  admit  liberty  to  consist  in  unbounded  scope  for  arbitrary 
will,  but  in  perfect  willing  obedience  to  a  perfect  law. 

As  for  the  course  of  events,  they  are  evidently  tending  to 
democracy.  Kings  have  forgotten  their  mission  and  set 
themselves  up  as  devil-tyrants.  So  far  as  I  can  read  God's  ways 
in  history,  it  is  His  purpose  by  these  (?) l  means  to  work  out 
the  liberation  of  all  mankind  from  the  thraldom  of  all  kinds 
of  kingly  oppression,  and  then,  when  at  the  same  time  the 
barriers  true  as  well  as  false  have  been  broken  down,  and  the 
nations  are  howling  in  all  the  horrors  of  anarchy,  to  set 
up  anew  His  true  representatives,  kings  exercising  righteous 

With  regard  to  the  case  of  the  Israelites,  I  think  Maurice 
is  right.  At  the  time  of  Saul  they  were  scarcely  enough  formed 
into  a  nation  to  be  fit  for  a  king,  more  especially  as  it  was 
needful  that  they  should  first  be  taught  the  primary  truth  (the 
title  by  which  David  reigned),  that  the  Lord  was  their  King ; 
but  clearly  it  was  intended  that  they  should  ultimately  have 
an  earthly  king.  Their  sin  was  that  they  desired  one  who 
should  treat  them  as  slaves,  and  not  as  the  free  subjects  of  a 
true  king. 

Thus  much  concerning  my  Toryism.  I  might  write  for 
ever,  but  space  has  bounds.  The  question  of  rebellion,  which 
in  some  measure  follows  as  a  corollary,  it  is  less  important  to 
touch  on,  more  especially  as  it  is  well  treated  in  the  Kingdom 
of  Christ^  vol.  iii.  ist  ed.2  But  perhaps  you  will  fancy  that  this 
has  little  to  do  with  Communism.  I  can  only  say  that  it  was 
through  the  region  of  pure  politics  that  I  myself  approacht 
Communism,  and  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  I  thereby  was 
delivered  from  some  very  unpleasant  paradoxes. 

Most  persons  think  of  it  merely  as  connected  with  property ; 
others  with  rank  and  social  station;  others  with  family  and 
especially  conjugal  relations.  All  these  are,  I  believe,  most 
intimately  connected ;  at  all  events,  I  never  heard  of  a  Com- 

1  The  word  is  indistinct. 
2  See  postscript  to  this  letter,  p.  144. 


munist  who  was  not  a  Radical.  (I  use  the  word  in  no  offen 
sive  sense.) 

I  have  no  intention  of  going  through  all  these  phases ;  but 
if  you  allow  the  truth  of  what  I  have  alleged  in  favour  of  in 
equality  of  power  and  authority,  you  will,  I  think,  see  that 
consistently  the  same  must  be  true  with  regard  to  property. 
Let  me  say  once  for  all  what  appears  to  me  to  be  the  real 
nature  of  the  difference  between  the  several  opinions  on  the 
subject.  Political  economists,  *  Millocrats  '  (P),1  aristocrats, 
etc.  etc.,  practically  and  often  avowedly  declare  that  their 
superiorities  of  wealth,  or  station,  or  birth  are  intended  for 
their  own  special  enjoyment,  are,  so  long  as  they  possess  them, 
exclusively  their  own,  and  that  they  may  do  what  they  like 
with  their  own. 

The  Communistic  or  rather  Socialistic  theorist  accepts  this 
selfish  view  of  property,  etc.,  and  appeals  to  mankind  whether 
it  is  right  that  these  gradations  of  enjoyment  or  '  happiness ' 
should  be  recognised  and  allowed.  All  men,  he  contends, 
have  an  equal  right  to  enjoy  themselves,  to  have  an  equal 
portion  of  the  pabulum  of  enjoyment.  But  it  seems  to  me  that 
the  deadly  poison  of  Socialism  is  its  deification  of  selfishness, 
that  it  is  based  upon  the  notion  of  a  balance  of  interests,  as 
many  in  number  as  there  are  human  beings  on  the  globe. 
Surely,  surely  the  doctrine  which  Kingsley  pours  forth  so 
gloriously  in  The  Sainfs  Tragedy  is  the  true  doctrine,  that 
nothing  in  the  universe,  which  lives  its  true  life,  lives  for  itself. 

Surely  every  man  is  meant  to  be  God's  steward  of  every 
blessing  and  'talent'  (power,  wealth,  influence,  station,  birth, 
etc.  etc.)  which  He  gives  him,  for  the  benefit  of  his  neigh 
bours.  Taken  simply  per  se,  this  doctrine  would  probably 
lead  to  much  fanaticism,  constantly  to  the  saddest  confusions 
and  perversions  of  God's  laws ;  but,  if  we  remember  that  His 
Spirit  is  at  every  moment  teaching  us  how  to  be  faithful  and 
wise  stewards,  reminding  us  that  we  are  not  mere  bottomless 
buckets  (letting  God's  gifts  run  straight  through  us  as  fast  as 
we  receive  them)  but  responsible  living  men,  bound,  as  on  the 
one  hand  not  to  seek  our  own  enjoyment,  so  on  the  other  to 
remember  constantly  (the  hardest  of  tasks  to  the  *  well-mean- 
1  The  word  is  indistinct. 


ing ' !)  that  neither  is  enjoyment  the  right  end  of  the  lives  of 
others,  and  that  the  truest  and  highest  way  of  spending  and 
being  spent  for  our  brethren  is  to  educate  them  constantly 
especially  to  the  highest  education,  the  knowledge  of  God,— 
if  we  do  this,  I  say,  we  shall  see  why  God  gives  more  to  one 
than  to  another,  and  learn  how  to  be  workers  together  with 
Him  for  His  great  glory ;  for  this  again  is  an  important  con 
sideration.  He  uses  all  sorts  of  means  in  the  education  of 
mankind ;  and  even  so  may  and  must  we  use  all  that  are  in 
our  hands,  not  stepping  out  of  our  place  and  endeavouring  to 
be  greater  philanthropists  than  He  is,  but  laboring  to  discern 
and  keep  in  harmony  with  the  present  laws  of  His  operation. 

To  be  without  responsibility,  to  be  in  no  degree  our 
'brother's  keeper,'  would  be  the  heaviest  curse  imaginable. 
This  seems  true  universally,  but  surely  there  is  no  material  of 
responsibility  so  powerful  as  wealth;  how  men  could  be 
educated  without  it,  I  cannot  see. 

But  I  am  far  from  shutting  my  eyes  to  the  awful  abuses  of 
property  now  existing ;  but  for  those,  I  think,  if  possible, 
partial  or  temporal  remedies  must  be  devised.  I  cannot  at 
present  see  any  objection  to  a  limit  being  placed  by  the  State 
upon  the  amount  of  property  which  any  one  person  may 
possess,  or  even  to  sumptuary  laws  of  various  kinds ;  on  such 
points  we  might  learn  much  from  the  Romans.  I  believe  the 
true  idea  of  property  to  be  set  forth  in  Maurice's  sermon,  on 
"  Give  us  this  day  our  daily  bread."  "  Mine  and  yet  not  mine, 
but  mankind's  "  is  its  formula,  logically  self-contradictory,  even 
as  is  the  similar  formula  of  moral  action,  "  I  and  yet  not  I, 
but  Christ  that  dwelleth  in  me."  The  doctrine  of  human 
merit  is  the  corruption  on  the  one  side,  of  the  negation  of 
virtue  and  the  substitution  of  vicarious  virtuous  acts  of  Christ's, 
on  the  other,  of  the  latter  idea;1  and  in  like  manner  the 
common  selfish  notion  of  property  is  the  corruption  on  the 
one  side,  socialism  on  the  other,  of  the  former. 

But  you  will  protest  that,  true  or  false,  this  seems  not  to 

1  This  sentence  is  obscurely  worded.  Apparently  the  right  sense  would 
be  given  by  rewriting  thus :  ' '  Of  the  latter  idea  the  doctrine  of  human  merit 
is  the  corruption  on  the  one  side  ;  that  of  the  negation  of  virtue  and  the  sub 
stitution  of  vicarious  virtuous  acts  of  Christ  is  its  corruption  on  the  other." 



touch  the  frightfully  practical  question  of  Competition ;  you 
rejoice  because  Maurice  seems  to  you  to  state  broadly  that 
competition  is  per  se  a  bad  thing.  To  the  best  of  my  recollec 
tion  this  is  not  his  real  doctrine.  I  think  he  says — at  all  events 
/  would  say — that  the  co-operative  principle  is  a  better  and  a 
mightier  than  the  competitive  principle  ;  for  I  know  no  mean 
ing  for  the  competitive  principle  but  a  rivalry,  a  jealous  and 
selfish  rivalry,  of  interests.  It  seems  to  me  that  competition  is 
not  in  itself  a  bad  thing,  if  we  mean  by  that  that  several  men 
separately  gain  their  living  by  the  same  means  ;  I  would  rather 
say  that  the  co-operative  principle  attains  its  fullest  realization 
in  competition,  and  that  competition  is  self-ruinous,  self- 
destructive  without  it.  Would  that  all  thought  so  and  acted 
so  !  To  denounce  competition  as  purely  evil  is  to  say  (as  a 
little  reflexion  will  show  you)  that  trade  is  purely  evil,  and 
commerce,  and  all  interchange  of  goods. 

This  is  certainly  a  startling  doctrine.  Possibly  if  trade 
were  more  generally  regulated  by  the  principles  of  the  book 
of  Proverbs,  no  one  would  dream  of  admitting  such  a  doctrine 
for  a  moment.  But  when  the  co-operative  principle  seeks  to 
frame  for  itself  a  spell  [?] x  drawn  out  of  itself, — in  short,  to 
solidify  itself  into  a  system  of  its  own, — it  must  lose  its  own 
meaning.  Its  beauty  and  excellence  are  moral,  not  mechanic 
ally  inherent ;  co-operation  is  fellow-work,  the  work  of  brother 
men  for  and  with  each  other.  Here  each  is  a  spring  of  life, 
each's  responsibility  is  daily  proved,  each  renders  to  his 
brethren  willing,  cheerful,  reasonable  service.  But  co-operation 
turned  into  a  system  becomes  simply  co-machination  \  the 
true  individuality  of  each  is  lost,  all  that  constitutes  him  a  man, 
a  moral  being,  is  lost ;  he  is  merely  a  conjointly-working  wheel. 
Nor  is  selfishness  a  whit  removed ;  he  seeks  '  our  interest,' 
*  the  interest  of  that  of  which  /  am  a  part,'  instead  of  '  my 
interest ' ;  and  I  own  I  do  not  see  what  is  gained  by  the 
change.  Of  course  he  may  be  unselfish  under  such  circum 
stances,  but  not  more  so  than  under  a  state  of  competition. 

I  am  quite  willing  to  allow  that  as  temporary  and  partial 
alleviations  of  present  material  suffering,  nay,  possibly  as 
examples  suggestive  of  the  principle  which  should  guide  all 

1  The  word  is  indistinct. 


dealings  of  trade,  such  associations  as  Maurice  is  setting  up 
may  be  most  useful.  But  I  contend  that  such  devices  must  be 
but  grease  and  springs  to  relieve  the  jars  and  strains  and  jerks 
of  our  social  system,  but  never  can  rightly,  or  even  (for  any 
time)  possibly,  form  its  substantive  elements,  much  less  its 
motive  power.  The  very  important  question  of  birth  and 
nobility  I  have  not  much  studied,  but  assuming  that  normally 
there  are  inequalities  of  station,  I  cannot  imagine  any  better 
foundation  of  inequality,  any  more  effectual  corrective  of  a 
mere  ploutocracy  or  titanocracy. 

There  is  a  most  common  feeling  to  which  one  cannot 
but  in  great  measure  assent,  that  power  and  dignity  should 
belong  to  those,  and  those  alone,  who  are  worthy  of  them,  and 
would  exercise  them  wisely  find  graciously.  Yet  after  much 
reflexion  on  this  point  (especially  in  connexion  with  Carlyle's 
demand  of  only  Able-men  for  kings)  I  have  come  to  the  con 
clusion  that  God  most  wisely  ordains  that  men  should  be 
looked  up  to  for  other  than  personal  excellencies ;  otherwise 
it  would,  I  feel,  be  next  to  impossible  to  think  of  Him  as  the 
Source  of  everything  bright  and  good,  and  not  to  look  upon 
their  excellencies  as  inherent  in  themselves.  These  seemingly 
arbitrary  grounds  of  distinction  are  so  many  witnesses  that  it 
is  God  Himself  who  must  choose  whom  He  will  '  delight  to 
honour.'  There  is  also  a  most  evident  connexion  between 
pre-eminence  of  birth  and  the  idea  of  family,  which  I  think  you 
will  readily  allow  to  have  been  the  simplest  type  of  order 
which  God  has  set  forth  to  men  in  all  ages,  the  trunk  of  the 
tree  of  society.  Further,  whatever  may  be  the  case  when  all 
mankind  shall  have  understood  and  recovered  their  true 
position,  there  is  now  at  least  great  good  in  the  attaching 
honour  to  those  who  distinctly  preserve  practically  the  idea  of 
race,  the  main  medium  of  setting  forth  true  individualism 
together  with  true  blood-unity,  as  separated  pro  tanto  from 
'the  masses,'  from  those  who  mostly  forget  their  connexion 
with  the  past  and  the  future,  and  more  or  less  are  but  particles 
of  a  lump.  (See  Maurice's  comment  on  the  Beast  in  The 
Songs  of  the  Church.}  But  however  the  horrors  of  com 
petition  and  aristocratic  insolence  may  act  as  ever-present 
goads  to  you,  I  believe  the  main  root  of  your  Communism, 

AGE  21 



and  of  all  true  Communism  (i.e.  Socialism  plus  what  I  am 
going  to  mention),  is  the  feeling  that  men  are  meant  to  be 
not  only  free,  brothers  of  each  other,  equals  of  each  other, 
but  one  with  each  other. 

I  think  Maurice  was  wrong  in  substituting  Unity  for  Equality 
in  the  Communistic  triad,  for  Unity  being  a  far  deeper  idea 
than  Equality,  he  disturbed  the  co-ordination  of  the  three ; 
Unity  is  rather  the  central  root  from  which  they  all  spring. 
And  I  for  one  do  most  firmly  hold  that  all  men  are  equal,  as 
well  as  that  men  are  unequal,  and  that  their  equality  is  deeper 
than  their  inequality.  I  mean  it  not  merely  in  the  pseudo- 
religious  way  in  which  it  is  often  acknowledged  in  the  pulpit 
on  Sunday,  but  really  substantially  as  a  fundamental  principle 
of  true  Christian  action.  But  I  should  think  it  a  hungry,  dry, 
theoretical  principle  if  it  were  not  sustained  by  the  principle 
of  the  unity  of  mankind,  the  deepest  in  men's  hearts  and  the 
hardest  to  express  in  any  formula,  revolutionary  or  otherwise. 

And  as  I  believe  that  men  are  equal  in  spite  of  the  divine 
inequalities  of  paternity,  kingship,  etc.  etc.,  because  the  Father 
and  the  Son  are  co-equal  in  spite  of  the  subordination  of  the 
Son  to  the  Father,  even  so  I  believe  that  men,  though  many 
persons,  are  one,  because  the  Father  and  the  Son  are  one,  and 
that  in  each  case  the  unition  is  in  and  through  the  Spirit,  not 
begotten,  but  proceeding  from  both  the  Father  and  the  Son. 

The  distinctness  of  the  Three  Persons  of  the  Godhead  is 
the  ground  of  the  personal  distinctness  of  men,  which  personal 
distinctness  is  hated  by  genuine  Communists ;  witness  the 
rejection  of  individual  names  on  the  part  of  the  Count  and 
Countess  in  La  Comtesse  de  Rudolstadt,  who  will  acknow 
ledge  no  name  but  the  common  name  of  '  man.'  This 
principle  of  unity  may  take,  and  has  taken,  a  thousand  different 
shapes.  I  will  not  enter  upon  its  connexion  with  the  Church, 
but  merely  refer  to  {A  man's  a  man  for  a'  that'  and  the 
Bothie  as  good  practical  expressions  of  it.  It  has  much  to 
do  (especially  in  connexion  with  the  opposite  pole  of  Individu 
ality)  with  various  mysterious  but  most  important  questions — 
that,  for  instance,  of  the  relation  of  epws  to  o-ropyrj  and  of 
aycwn;  to  both,  but  these,  tho'  quite  ad  rem,  must  be  left  now 


Instead  of  giving  you  now  any  a  posteriori  arguments  to 
connect  Communism  with  Pantheism,  I  will  leave  you  to 
follow  out  such  thoughts  as  what  I  have  already  said  may 
suggest.  Neither  will  I  bother  you  with  showing  that  to  be 
consistent  you  must  follow  Plato,  and  believe  permanence  of 
marriage  to  be  a  pernicious  bondage.  Lawless  right,  formless 
substance,  bodiless  spirit, — these  are,  I  believe,  the  general 
formulae  common  to  all  the  aspects  of  Pantheism  ;  arbitrary 
law,  naked  form,  lifeless  matter,  of  pure  Monotheism.  The 
mutual  correlation  and  reciprocal  necessity  of  the  twin  sets  of 
ideas,  as  grounded  upon  a  Trinity  in  Unity,  are  set  forth  and 
interwoven  into  the  daily  life  of  men  by  the  two  great 
Universal  Sacraments,  and  in  a  lesser  degree  by  the  lesser 
Sacraments.  I  ask  you  not  to  conclude  too  hastily  that  this 
conflict  and  this  reconciliation,  which  are  found  in  every 
other  region,  are  wanting  in  the  region  of  Politics.  May  God 
lead  us  both  into  all  truth  in  these  and  all  other  mysteries  of 
His  Kingdom ! — Ever,  my  dear  Ellerton,  most  affectionately 
yours,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 


On  second  thoughts  it  seems  better  to  say  a  word  on 
'loyalty'  and  rebellion.  I  do  not  profess  to  be  able  to 
answer  every  objection,  but  I  think  I  see  my  way  clearly 
in  one  or  two  directions.  There  is  a  certain  Divine  plan 
upon  which  God  would  have  all  kingdoms  formed,  even 
as  there  is  a  certain  Divine  plan  for  all  churches  and  religious 
bodies ;  but,  as  religious  bodies  have  forsaken  the  Apostolic 
type,  even  so  have  states  forsaken  their  true  Davidean  type, 
becoming  tyrannies  and  democracies  in  various  modifications. 
Nevertheless  all  these  violations  of  God's  own  order  are  part  of 
His  providential  government.  It  behoves  men  therefore,  who 
find  themselves  in  an  abnormal  and  irregular  state  of  things, 
while  they  maintain  in  their  hearts  and  advance,  so  far  as 
God's  will  is  made  manifest  to  them,  the  truer  and  higher 
state,  to  submit  themselves  to  the  lower,  and  more  corrupt,  as 
still  in  a  lower  sense  ordained  by  Him,  and  not  to  rebel 
against  it  in  self-will ;  thus  the  Apostles  rightly  did  not  resist 
the  Emperors,  but  the  Nonjurors  acted  wrongly.  Submission 


to  de  facto  rule  is  a  duty.  It  was  for  their  maintaining  this  rule 
in  opposition  to  the  Sacheverel  doctrine  that  James  I.  refused 
to  sign  the  Canons  of  1606  (I  think),  commonly  called  Bishop 
Overall's  Convocation  Book,  after  they  had  been  adopted  by  both 
Houses  of  Convocation  and  Parliament.  Loyalty  I  cannot 
define,  but  it  seems  to  me  to  be  a  peculiar  filial  feeling  toward 
God's  Anointed  King,  which  could  never  in  any  considerable 
degree  be  shown  to  any  one,  whose  authority  was  in  any  sense 
our  own  creature.  It  is  customary  to  call  it  slavish ;  but  a 
slave,  a  human  labouring  machine,  cannot  be  loyal ;  freedom 
and  personal  independence  are  implied  in  it. 

The  following  letter  was  written  and  sent  before  the 
last  was  completed  : — 


BATH,  March  30^,  1850. 

.  .  I  cannot  let  Easter-tide  altogether  pass  away  without 
ling  you  a  line  or  two  of  good  wishes  and  ordinary  babble. 
As  for  No.  i,  you  seem  to  take  that  individual's  misfortunes  (?) 
to  heart  much  more  than  he  does  himself;  there  is  really 
nothing  very  appalling  in  being  two  places  lower  than  one 
might  have  been,  tho'  it  is  vexatious,  especially  as  Tait 
seems  disappointed,  as  well  as  several  of  my  friends.  I  should 
infer  from  your  letter  that  you  fancy  Beamont  to  be  above 
me ;  that  is  not  the  case ;  he  merely  begins  with  a  B,  I  with 
an  H  (I  wish  for  the  nonce  the  examiners  had  spelt  me  as 
some  tradesmen  do,  '  Aught ' !).  Schreiber  and  Beamont  have 
got  the  medals,  and  are,  I  should  think,  the  best  of  those  in 
for  them.  After  all  I  have  the  Moral  and  Natural  Science 
Triposes  still  before  me,  to  say  nothing  of  my  Fellowship ;  I 
wish  I  had  any  chance  of  the  latter  for  this  year,  but  I  have 
none.  If  during  the  next  eighteen  or  twenty  months  I  read 
half  what  I  have  in  mind  to  do,  I  shall  do  very  well,  but 
indolent  ways  are  not  easily  overcome. 

I  have  made  several  valuable  acquaintances ;  among  others 
that  of  Markland  (who  founded  the  sermon  for  the  Propagation 
VOL.  I  L 


of  the  Gospel  Society).  .  .  .  He  had  a  glorious  library,  heaps 
of  interesting  portraits,  etc.  etc.,  and  pleased  me  much.  I 
heard  once  at  St.  Michael's,  a  splendid  modern  Early  English 

church,  .  I  was  half  asleep,  but  he  seemed  a  man  with 

real  brave  stuff  in  him.  I  was  twice  or  three  times  at  the 
Octagon  Chapel.  These  chapels  are  curious  places,  quite 

I  heard  John  Parry  the  other  night ;  he  is  laughable 
enough,  has  a  noble  voice  and  most  marvellous  power  over 
the  piano,  but  his  'entertainments'  are  not  particularly 

This  is  a  most  beautiful  city.  The  Abbey  is  not  very  much, 
late  Perpendicular,  unfinished ;  but  the  hollows  and  combes, 
where  the  soft  lias  of  the  vales  melts  into  its  harder  beds, 
where  they  join  on  to  the  oolite  of  the  hills,  are  most  varied 
and  rich.  We  are  about  the  junction  of  the  strata,  half-way 
up  Lansdown,  in  the  last  row  in  Bath,  looking  out  on  the 
breezy  Victoria  Park. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  as  well  to  keep  Maurice's  letter  till  I  am 
in  Cambridge,  which  will  be  (D.  V.)  in  a  fortnight.  You  are 
most  welcome  to  take  a  copy  for  yourself;  but  no  one  has 
seen  it  but  the  Macmillans,  their  friend  H.  Gotobed,  W. 
Howard,  and  Blunt,  and  it  is  very  doubtful  whether  I  shall 
show  it  to  any  one  else. 

I  wish  Kingsley's  tract  Cheap  Clothes  and  Nasty  was 
out.  I  am  not  now  going  to  talk  on  the  subject,  but  simply 
protest  against  being  associated  with  the  Economist,  or 
any  other  political  economic  quack.  You  shall  have  more  of 
the  new  Princess  from  Cambridge ;  there  is  a  song  between 
each  canto,  and  the  *  conclusion '  is  considerably  altered  and 
enlarged ;  minor  changes  occur  throughout.  Don't  abuse 
Kingsley's  War-song ;  it  is  not  flute-like,  but  surely  it  has  a 
rude  gigantesque  tromboon  vigour  about  its  music ;  it  occurs 
in  one  of  a  beautiful  series  of  articles  on  '  N.  Devon,'  and  is 
sung  by  Claude  Mellot  in  a  boat  of  fishermen  and  fisherwomen, 
old  and  young,  going  out  from  Clovelly  to  Lundy  Isle.  I  am 
much  pleased  with  No.  2  of  Carlyle ;  he  has  boldly  set  forth 
justice  as  a  ground  of  punishment,  and  made  the  sentimentalists 
furious.  The  authoress  of  Shirley  is  older  than  you  fancy ; 

AGE  22 



she  is  twenty-six,  and  wears  light  flowing  hair  down  to  her 
waist.  She  lives  quite  in  solitude  with  her  father  (her  two 
sisters  died  a  year  or  two  ago),  and  he  knew  nothing  of  the 
matter  till  she  simultaneously  presented  him  with  Jane  Eyre 
and  the  reviews  of  it.  Clark  reviewed  Shirley  in  Fraser.  I 
saw  in  the  North  American  an  amusing  review  of  Lady  Alice. 
It  is  much  vext  to  find  that  the  book  is  written  by  an  American, 
and  grieves  that  a  model  republican  should  write  so  superstitious, 
aristocratic,  indecent  a  book ;  it  certainly  has  faults  enough, 
but  no  nation  need  be  ashamed  of  it.  I  want  much  to  skim 
Southey's  Life,  but  have  not  yet  seen  it. 

I  wish  I  saw  into  that  ^pov^a  a-ap/cos  question ;  Maurice 
gave  me  no  answer  about  it.  Two  things  at  least  are  certain  : 
first,  that  Christ  has  redeemed  the  flesh  and  taken  it  into  the 
Divine  Nature  by  the  Incarnation ;  second,  that  "  the  flesh 
lusteth  against  the  spirit."  The  reconciliation  I  cannot  see. 

I  am  afraid  I  cannot  help  you  on  Gen.  iii.  Probably 
Revelations  are,  as  you  hint,  the  best  guide ;  the  beginning  of 
the  Bible  is  elucidated  by  the  end.  I  have  often  thought  of 
asking  Maurice  in  conversation,  but  there  are  more  impera 
tively  engrossing  points.  Thinking  over  the  time  when  I  used 
to  exult  in  despising  Revelations,  etc.,  I  cannot  help  thinking 
of  Clough's  lines,  and  longing  for  more  of  that 

Courage  to  let  the  courage  sink, 
Itself  a  coward  base  to  think, 
Rather  than  not  for  heavenly  light 
Wait  on,  to  show  the  truly  right. 

I  wrote  to  Macmillan  about  Midhurst ;  I  know  no  one  myself. 
Respecting  your  work  in  Scotland,  remember  that  noble  sonnet 
by  one  of  the  Ragged  School  teachers,  prefixt  to  the  volume  of 
the  Politics  for  the  People,  beginning — 

Not  all  who  seem  to  fail,  have  failed  indeed. 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  lot/t,  1850. 

.  .  .  The  Exhibition  of  Antient  and  Mediaeval  Art,  which 
I  especially  wished  to  see,  interested  me  a  good  deal,  though  I 


was  in  some  measure  disappointed ;  I  had  expected  to  see  a 
good  deal  of  beauty  of  form,  especially  in  the  goldsmiths' 
work,  but  found  scarcely  any.  On  the  other  hand,  the  elabor 
ateness  and  richness  of  the  carving  was  perfectly  wonderful. 
Many  of  the  best  objects  had  been  sent  for  exhibition  by  the 
Queen,  and  several  were  of  historical  as  well  as  artistic 
interest ;  one  of  the  finest  of  these  was  a  magnificent  shield 
(attributed  to  Benvenuto  Cellini)  given  by  Francis  I.  to  Henry 
VIII.,  probably  at  the  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold. 

.  .  .  Babington  will  be  much  pleased  if  I  can  join  him  at 
Edinburgh  for  the  British  Association,  which  meets  there  on 
July  3ist,  and  then  take  a  run  with  him  and  Balfour  (the 
Edinburgh  Professor  of  Botany)  into  Ross-shire  and  Sutherland- 
shire,  and  either  the  Hebrides  or  the  Orkneys  for  scientific 
exploration.  I  was  glad  on  reaching  Cambridge,  and  examin 
ing  the  Ilfracombe  sea-weeds  which  I  had  myself  gathered, 
and  a  few  of  which  I  had  laid  out,  to  find  that,  with  few 
exceptions,  you  and  I  had  hit  on  different  species. 


CAMBRIDGE,  Ascension  Day,  1850. 
(Finisht  May  12th.) 

.  .  .  You  ask  me  about  the  liberty  to  be  allowed  to 
clergymen  in  their  views  of  Baptism.  For  my  own  part,  I 
would  gladly  admit  to  the  ministry  such  as  hold  Gorham's 
view,  much  more  such  as  hold  the  ordinary  confused  Evan 
gelical  notions,  tho'  I  would  on  no  account  alter  the  Prayer- 
book  or  Catechism  to  make  them  more  palatable  to  them.  But 
for  all  that  I  could  not  have  signed  the  famous  Judgement, 
because  I  do  not  think  that  the  Formularies  will  fairly  bear 
the  meaning  there  pronounced  admissible.  But  if  a  clergy 
man  says  he  can  honestly  use  them,  I  would  not  molest  him. 
I  do  not  think  that  Gorham's  views  would  have  been  tolerated 
in  the  early  ages.  I  am  not  aware  of  their  existence  for  many 
centuries  except  in  notorious  heretics. 

Of  course  you  have  seen  by  this  time  Cheap  Clothes  and 
Nasty,  and  the  three  numbers  of  the  Tracts  on  Christian 


Socialism,  i  and  3  by  Maurice,  and  2  by  a  barrister  of  the 
name  of  Hughes.  They  are  fully  worth  study  ;  but  I  still  hold 
back  from  Socialism.  .  .  . 

I  think  Maurice's  letter  to  me  sufficiently  showed  that  we 
have  no  sure  knowledge  respecting  the  duration  of  future 
punishment,  and  that  the  word  '  eternal '  has  a  far  higher 
meaning  than  the  merely  material  one  of  excessively  long 
duration ;  extinction  always  grates  against  my  mind  as  some 
thing  impossible.  .  .  . 

You  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  Sir  James  Stephen  has  been 
delivering  a  really  splendid  course  of  lectures  on  the  medi 
aeval  history  of  France,  .  .  .  full  of  matter  and  thought. 

Hare's  charge  is  good  and  interesting ;  he  has  twice 
indignant  protests  against  the  persecution  of  Miss  Sellon ;  his 
letter  to  Cavendish  is  not  remarkable.  I  daresay  you  will 
have  seen  the  article  in  the  Quarterly  on  Maurice  and 
Queen's  College,  as  well  as  Maurice's  magnificent  pamphlet  in 
reply ;  I  never  saw  charges  so  completely  flung  back  on  the 
accuser.  As  a  piece  of  controversial  writing,  it  surpasses  even 
Henry  of  Exeter's  works. 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  i6th,  1850. 

...  A  few  days  afterwards  Kingsley  was  here  for  an  hour 
or  two  merely  on  business,  so  that  I  did  not  see  him,  but 
Macmillan  told  him  of  you  and  Serres  (that's  the  name  I 
think) ;  he  said  that  he  would  give  anything  to  know  you,  and 
desired  that  his  request  might  be  conveyed  to  you  to  call  upon 
him  at  Eversley,  or  write  to  him,  and  he  would  call  upon  you 
at  Easebourne,  or  do  anything  else  to  bring  you  together. 

I  was  in  town  from  Sunday  to  Tuesday  last  but  one,  to  see 
the  Mediaeval  Exhibition ;  heard  Maurice  preach  on  Sunday, 
went  to  breakfast  with  him  on  Monday  and  Tuesday,  and  tea 
on  Monday,  and  saw  and  made  acquaintance  with  Ludlow, 
Hughes  (the  author  of  Tract  No.  2),  Furnival,  Vansittart 
Neale,  Chevallier,  and  others  of  the  set,  as  well  as  the  Tailors. 
A.  Macmillan  (who  was  with  me)  told  them  I  was  an  enemy, 


but  I  had  a  friend  Ellerton  down  in  the  country,  a  most 
determined  Socialist ;  they  shouted,  Hughes  especially,  O  that 
they  must  at  once  get  him  to  fraternize  and  make  him  an 
agent,  and  Hughes  asked  me  where  you  dwelt ;  I  told  him,  and 
shall  not  be  surprized  if  you  hear  something  of  them ;  at  all 
events,  the  door  is  opened  for  you. 

Of  course  you've  seen  Maurice's  magnificent  smasher  of  the 
Quarterly's  pitiful  attack.  Kingsley  is  coming  out  with  a  three- 
volume  Socialist  novel,  Alton  Locke,  Poet  and  Tailor:  an 
Autobiography  ;  I  have  to-day  seen  the  two  first  proof-sheets. 


CAMBRIDGE,  Trinity  Stmday  [May  26th],  1850. 

My  dear  Ellerton — After  spending  the  greater  part  of  to 
day  in  reading  Maurice's  History  of  Philosophy,  from  the 
beginning  of  Plato  down  to  the  Christian  period  (no  small 
amount),  I  sit  down  to  begin  to  you  an  answer  due  above  a 
month  ago. 

...  I  heard  a  fair  amount  of  music  at  Bath.  Catherine 
Hayes  disgusted  me ;  they  call  her  pretty,  but  she  is  merely 
like  a  painted  doll.  I  don't  know  whether  you  remember 
a  pair  of  popular  Cambridge  engravings,  each  of  a  rustic 
girl  sitting  in  an  attitude  on  a  bank  simpering  vilely;  the 
prettiest  of  them  is  exactly  a  portrait  of  her,  and  all  her 
ways  and  manners  are  equally  mincing.  Her  crack  song, 
'Savourneen  Deelish,'  was  to  me  horrible;  she  dolorously 
drawled  and  whined  and  spun  out  the  notes  to  half  a  minute 
apiece,  in  a  manner  most  unpathetic  and  unballad-like.  She 
has  a  wonderful,  rich,  powerful  voice  (of  course  far  below 
Jenny  Lind's),  but,  I  think,  no  genius.  This  came  out  most 
strongly  in  '  Ah  non  giungej  which  she  had  the  bad  taste  to 
sing  in  rivalry  of  Jenny  Lind  ;  she  sung  it  very  well,  but  it  was 
merely  the  pretty,  varied,  sensuous  air  of  Bellini,  while  Jenny 
threw  the  very  soul  of  music  into  it.  I  must  in  justice  mention 
that  she  was  picked  out  of  a  charity  school  at  Limerick  by  the 
late  Bishop,  educated,  and  sent  to  Italy  at  his  expense. 
Meanwhile  he  got  into  difficulties  and  had  to  sell  the  furniture 

AGE  22 


of  his  palace  ;  she  chanced  to  hear  of  it,  instantaneously  turned 
every  article  she  possest  into  money,  and  redeemed  the 
furniture.  I  did  not  like  Kate  Loder's  piano-playing,  it  was 
so  monotonous  and  tastelessly  rapid;  but  she  had  the  dis 
advantage  of  a  detestable  piano. 

While  I  think  of  it,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  send  me 
Maurice's  letter,  if  you  have  really  done  with  it  ? 

How  noble  Carlyle  continues  in  spite  of  some  nonsense  ! 
We  had  a  capital  Union  debate  on  the  Latter-Day  Pamphlets ; 
of  course  I  defended  him  most  warmly.  Davies l  (our  scholar) 
sent  Carlyle  a  copy  of  a  pamphlet  he  has  just  published  (on 
admitting  the  Clergy  to  Parliament),  and  mentioned  the  debate 
and  its  favorable  result,  and  received  a  most  characteristic 
but  hearty  and  kind  note  in  return.  It  was  Mill  who  answered 
Carlyle  on  '  Quashee  and  Pumpkin,'  etc.  Apropos  of  him,  ist, 
because  I  see  that  in  England  Socialism  begins  in  the  region 
of  Political  Economy,  and  to  study  it  rightly  one  should  occupy 
the  ground ;  2nd,  because  the  subject  is  in  the  Moral  Science 
Tripos,  I  have  just  got  his  Political  Economy,  and  hope  to 
read  it  cum  multis  aliis  in  the  Long. 

Poor,  poor  Lord  Lincoln  ! !  Yet  perhaps  his  heavy  sorrows 
are  meant  to  ripen  him  for  future  holding  of  the  helm  of  the 
State.  So  after  all  the  mighty  spring  of  half  the  life  of  the 
century  is  dried  up.  Wordsworth  is  dead  !  Well !  I  believe 
we  shall  find  men  to  take  his  place,  not  altogether  unworthily 
in  course  of  time.  There  is  a  large  committee  of  great  names 
to  collect  subscriptions  for  a  bust  in  Westminster  Abbey,  a 
monument  at  Grasmere,  and  some  institution  to  his  memory ; 
Maurice,  Hare,  and  two  others  form  the  acting  committee. 

On  Tuesday  last  I  had  a  sort  of  link  to  you,  being  at  one 
end  of  that  long  belt  of  Lower  Green  Sand  on  the  other  end  of 
which  you  are  fixed  ;  all  the  vegetation  is  wonderfully  fresh  and 
warm  upon  it. 

Maurice  told  me  that  he  hoped  to  have  the  first  (ante- 
Christian)  part  of  his  History  of  Philosophy  out  in  June,  the 
est  not  for  ever  so  long,  as  a  vast  deal  would  have  to  be  done 
to  it  in  the  way  of  expansion,  etc.  He  had  entirely  re-written 
the  Jewish  period,  but  intended  only  to  touch  up  the  Greek. 
1  Now  the  Rev.  J.  LI.  Davies. 


I  know  nothing  of  the  Warburtonian  Lectures  and  Sermons  on 
the  Occasional  Services  except  the  advertisement;  but  Mac- 
millan  has  just  had  a  note  to  say  that  he  and  Mrs.  Maurice  are 
ordered  abroad  by  their  medico  for  three  months  for  health's 
sake.  He  laughs  as  far  as  regards  himself,  tho'  I  am  sure 
he  greatly  overworks  himself,  but  his  wife  is  certainly  very  ill. 
I  have  got  Coleridge's  new  book,  but  not  read  much ;  it  is 
(except  a  few  pages  transcribed  in  Gillman's  Life)  entirely 
new,  consisting  of  a  gathering  up,  as  complete  as  possible,  of 
his  articles  in  the  Courier,  Morning  Post,  etc.,  and  his  early 
Watchman  effusions.  These  latter  are  wild  enough,  but  fully 
bear  out  his  protestation  that  he  never  was  a  Jacobin.  At  the 
end  are  a  few  new  poems,  chiefly  epigrams.  Void  the  best  of 

In  vain  I  praise  thee,  Zoilus, 

In  vain  thou  railst  at  me. 
Me  no  one  credits,  Zoilus, 

And  no  one  credits  thee. 

I  have  F.  Newman's  Soul  in  hand,  but  find  it  awfully  dull 
and  saccharine  and  vapid.  I  have  scarcely  seen  his  new 
Phases  of  Faith  (the  last  being,  I  suppose,  'New  Moon').  They 
seem  stronger,  but  full  of  the  same  placid,  self-complacent, 
boudoir  scepticism  which  exasperates  me  beyond  measure.  I 
have  also  a  long  while  begun  G.  Sand's  Lelta,  in  order  to  see 
her  worst,  but  have  made  little  way  through  its  jungles  of 
dreary  Werterism,  setting  up  people  as  the  objects  of  the 
greatest  interest — almost  worship — in  proportion  to  the  amount 
of  sins  they  have  committed. 

I  have  a  sort  of  fancy  that  I  never  told  you  of  my  having 
written  to  Maurice  about  three  weeks  before  going  to  Bath,  to 
ask  about  a  course  of  Moral  Philosophy  reading,  etc.,  and  to 
know  whether  he  still  thought  that  Englishmen  should  attend 
more  to  Ethics  than  to  Metaphysics.  Just  then  I  heard  of  the 
forthcoming  Socialist  Tracts,  and  added  a  postscript  wishing 
him  success,  but  protesting  against  the  cant  of  praising  the 
meritoriousness  and  benevolence  of  those  who  joined  an 
association.  At  last  I  got  an  answer,  which  you  shall  see  when 
you  are  with  me,  but  is  hardly  worth  sending  unless  you  are 
methodically  attacking  the  subject — valuable  enough  for  its 


own  purposes,  and  containing  some  beautiful  remarks  on 
Plato  and  Aristotle.  To  the  former,  he  says,  he  owes  more 
than  to  any  book  but  the  Bible.  I  will  transcribe  what  he 
says  on  Socialism ;  of  course  he  begins  it  in  connexion  with 
the  previous  subjects  : — 

"  On  the  whole  I  should  hold  fast  to  Plato  and  Aristotle, 
and  make  the  other  books  of  the  course  illustrative  of  them. 
Our  modern  Socialist  questions,  which,  as  you  say,  must  press 
more  and  more  upon  us,  will,  I  conceive,  present  themselves 
to  you  again  and  again  while  you  are  busy  with  those  ancients. 
And  it  is  a  grand  thing  to  read  the  newspapers  by  the  light  of 
them,  and  them  by  the  light  of  the  newspapers.  I  send  you 
my  tract  in  this  letter.  You  shall  have  the  second  soon.  I 
do  not  suppose  they  will  be  read  much,  but  they  may  set  some 
people  thinking  who  will  do  something  better  themselves.  I 
do  not  wish  to  represent  it  as  any  merit  in  the  working  men 
to  join  a  trading  fraternity ;  but  neither  do  I  think  it  is  any 
merit  to  join  a  purely  religious  or  benevolent  fraternity.  It 
seems  to  me  the  right  thing  to  do  both  one  and  the  other 
kind  of  work  according  to  the  Gospel,  and  that  is  all  I  see 
about  it." 

On  my  return  hither  I  wrote  to  thank  him,  and  explained 
that  I  did  not  mean  merit  theologically,  but  could  not  ascribe 
moral  excellence  to  what  was  done  from  motives  of  self- 
interest.  A  few  days  afterwards  I  went  up  to  town,  and  of 
that  visit  I  must  now  give  you  some  account.  Mackenzie 
was  eating  his  term  at  Lincoln's  Inn,  and  I  agreed  to  run  up 
on  the  Monday  and  go  with  him  to  see  the  '  Mediaeval  Show ' 
(as  Maurice  called  it).  I  wrote  three  or  four  days  before  to 
Maurice  to  ask  what  time  I  should  find  him  at  home  on  Mon 
day  or  Tuesday,  knowing  (and  telling  him)  that  he  was  not  to 
be  found  at  ordinary  hours.  He  begged  me  to  come  to 
breakfast  on  Monday  if  I  were  so  early  in  town,  and  at  all 
events  he  would  try  to  meet  me  at  the  ''Show,'  and  I  must 
take  tea  with  him  in  the  evening,  when  '  some  barristers  and 
others  to  whom  he  would  like  to  introduce  me '  met  '  to 
read  the  Scriptures — not  at  all  in  a  formal  way,'  and  must 
breakfast  with  him  the  next  morning.  I  knew  of  this 
'Crotchet  Club,'  as  A.  Macmillan  calls  it,  and  had  chosen 


Monday  with  that  view.  I  answered  that  I  could  not  resist 
his  whole  invitation,  and  would  go  up  on  Sunday.  Mean 
while  the  thought  struck  me,  why  not  hear  him  preach  as 
well  ?  And  as  I  found  A.  Macmillan  was  going  up  on  Sunday 
morning  to  attend  a  sale,  I  agreed  to  go  with  him.  We  de 
posited  our  luggage  at  Wood's,  Furnival's  Inn,  secured  beds, 
and  sallied  forth  to  look  at  Lincoln's  Inn  and  the  neighbour 
hood,  and  finally  to  go  to  service.  We  got  in  the  pew 
diagonally  furthest  from  Maurice,  and  he  was  already  in  his 
desk.  It  was  a  dark  afternoon,  and  the  stained  glass  was  dim, 
and  I  would  hardly  believe  that  that  was  the  Maurice  of  the 
portrait.  His  reading  of  the  service  did  not  seem  to  me  nearly 
so  marked  and  varied  as  you  described  and  Blunt  confirmed, 
but  it  was  wonderfully  beautiful ;  not  a  particle  of  effect  or 
mouthing,  but  the  calmest,  solemnest,  yet  never  monotonous, 
prayer.  The  anthem  was  a  long,  dreary  anthology  of  scraps 
from  old  English  composers ;  but  it  was  curious  to  watch  his 
face  looking  out  into  the  chapel,  with  the  dark  hollows  of  his 
deep-set  eyes  strongly  contrasted  with  the  rest  of  his  face  in 
the  sort  of  twilight.  His  text  was  i  John  i.  8,  9.  .  .  .  Such 
a  sermon  in  every  respect  I  never  heard ;  his  quiet,  deep  voice, 
piercing  you  so  softly  and  firmly  through  and  through,  never 
pausing  or  relaxing  in  its  strain  of  eloquence,  every  syllable, 
as  it  were,  weighted  with  the  energy  and  might  of  his  whole 
soul  (and  what  a  soul !),  kept  me  crouched  in  a  kind  of  spell, 
such  as  I  could  not  have  conceived.  After  chapel  we  dined 
and  then  went  to  see  Ludovici  (an  odd  Red  Republican 
German  artist  of  some  genius,  who  was  here  for  some  time)  at 
a  curious  foreign  boarding-house ;  and  truly  a  more  strange 
Sunday  evening  I  never  past :  there  were  one  or  two  male 
singing  notabilities  and  Hurwitz,  the  great  chess-player.  The 
next  (rainy)  morning  we  were  at  Maurice's  before  nine ;  he 
received  me  most  kindly,  and  apologized  that  he  had  brought 
me  unawares  but  unintentionally  into  a  Socialist  breakfast ;  a 
committee  had  to  meet,  and  his  breakfast -table  was  most 
speedy  and  convenient.  Accordingly  I  was  introduced  to 
Ludlow  and  one  or  two  others  (Hughes,  a  most  glorious,  free, 
hearty  fellow  Macmillan  had  introduced  to  me  after  chapel  on 
Sunday).  Ludlow,  with  his  quiet,  earnest,  strong,  gentle  manner, 


pleased  me  much.  Among  the  others  were  Vansittart  Neale, 
who  supplies  most  of  the  cash  (he  is  cousin  to  Vansittart,  who 
is  now  among  the  promoters,  but  was  that  day  at  Cambridge), 
and  Chevallier,  a  French  political  economist.  They  are 
coming  out  with  a  book  on  the  subject  likely  to  be  very 
strong,  and  to  contain  an  honest  attack  on  property,  root  and 
branch.  Maurice's  evanescent  smiles  and  occasional  quiet, 
overwhelming  observations,  the  force  of  which  they  did  not  in 
the  least  perceive,  amused  me  much.  I  had  not  much  con 
versation  with  him  then,  but  in  his  presence  everything  was 
delight.  ...  I  called  for  Mackenzie  in  Wimpole  Street,  and 
thence  to  the  '  Mediaeval  Show,'  which  certainly  disappointed 
me,  interesting  as  it  was;  I  expected  beauty  of  form  and 
found  none.  Thence  to  the  Old  Water-Colours  Exhibition, 
but  any  details  of  this  and  the  Royal  Academy  I  must  re 
serve,  or  this  letter  will  not  be  able  to  go  to-night.  Thence 
with  him  as  far  as  Regent  Circus,  Oxford  Street,  whence  we 
parted,  and  I  to  Lincoln's  Inn.  I  had  still  some  time  before 
meeting  Macmillan,  so  walked  to  the  National  Gallery  to  see 
John  Bellini's  '  Doge,'  and  lounged  there  for  half  an  hour ; 
thence  joined  Macmillan  at  Nutt's,  went  and  dined  and  called 
on  Furnival.  He  took  us  to  see  the  Shoemakers'  and  Tailors' 
Associations.  Thence  to  the  Central  Committee  room  in 
New  Oxford  Street,  where  Maurice  presided  over  a  large  court 
of  promoters,  some  of  whom  I  fancied,  others  I  didn't ;  they 
received  a  third  shoemakers'  deputation  for  an  association. 
Thence  we  all  walked,  I  coupled  with  Ludlow,  to  Maurice's 
house,  it  being  past  9  P.M.,  and  I  had  a  great  deal  of  most 
interesting  talk  with  him  (Ludlow),  which  I  must  also  reserve, 
only  saying  that  it  enormously  strengthened  all  my  previous 
feeling  and  judgement  against  the  system  of  Socialism.  After 
tea  Gen.  xxii.  was  read,  and  Ludlow  and  Furnival  made  some 
critical  remarks.  Maurice  said  but  little — of  course  there  was 
good  in  it — but  nothing  particular.  The  next  morning  I  went 
alone  to  Maurice's,  and  breakfasted  quietly,  no  one  being 
there  but  Mrs.  Maurice  (who  was  miserably  ill,  so  that  I  could 
not  judge  much  of  her),  a  sort  of  governess,  and  his  second 
boy  (the  eldest  was  gone  to  his  day  school),  a  most  dear  little 
fellow,  who  made  great  friends  with  me.  I  had  much  interest- 


ing  talk  with  him,  and  still  more  as  I  half-walked  half-cabbed 
with  him  to  Harley  Street,  where  he  was  going  to  Queen's 
College.  Cambridge,  Plato,  etc.,  and  the  ecclesiastical  horizon 
were  our  chief  topics.  Much  that  he  said,  on  the  last  especi 
ally,  will  be  interesting  to  you,  but  I  must  most  reluctantly 
postpone  it.  He  parted  from  me  in  the  most  cordial  way.  I 
then  went  to  the  Academy  Exhibition,  and  spent  some  three 
hours  there ;  thence  joined  Macmillan  at  the  sale,  and  finally 
dined  and  returned  to  Cambridge.  I  know  I  had  much  more 
to  say  besides  what  I  have  reserved,  but  I  cannot  at  this 
moment  remember  what. 


NEWLAND,  June  30^,  1850. 

.  .  .  What  an  unspeakable  loss  we  have  sustained  in 
poor  Sir  R.  Peel !  It  is  very  gratifying  to  see  that  the  regret 
seems  universal;  I  am  sure,  however,  that  his  death  was  a 
necessary  step  to  a  new  order  of  things.  Gladstone  is 
evidently  not  unconscious  of  his  own  position.  His  tone,  and 
Lord  John's  to  him,  in  the  Foreign  Affairs  debate  showed 
this ;  so  also  the  Dublin  Mail,  which  is  very  well  informed 
on  Government  affairs,  said  during  the  debate  that  Lord 
Stanley  had  been  down  to  the  House  of  Commons  and  had  a 
long  conference  with  Gladstone,  and  it  was  understood  that 
they  had  formed  a  coalition.  Moreover,  Stanley  has  deserted 
the  Protectionist  squallers  ;  but  I  sincerely  hope  that  Gladstone 
will  not  consent  merely  to  head  a  party  of  Conservatives  such 
as  they  were  before  Peel  Liberalised  them. 

I  hope  you  are  reading  David  Copperfield ;  it  is  very 

But  I  must  tell  you  something  of  my  present  locality. 
You  perhaps  know  that  the  upper  part  of  the  district  between 
the  Wye  and  Severn  is  a  small  coal  basin  (though  elevated 
ground)  called  the  Forest  of  the  Dean,  and  is  royal  property 
above  ground.  The  course  of  the  Wye  below  Ross  to 
Chepstow  lies  along  a  range  of  mountain  limestone,  forming 
beautiful  wooded  hills,  sometimes  in  cliffs  and  nearly  always 


steep.  At  Monmouth,  where  a  more  level  country  opens  into 
Herefordshire,  disclosing  a  view  of  the  distant  Brecon  moun 
tains,  the  Wye  begins  to  run  nearly  due  south,  through  hills  of 
endless  variety,  but  never  interrupted  by  depressions.  Our 
village  is  on  the  map  about  two  miles  and  a  half  from  Mon 
mouth  (by  road  four  and  a  half) ;  exactly  south-east  of  that 
town,  but  lying  in  Gloucestershire,  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
from  the  Wye ;  I  believe  we  are  on  Millstone  grit,  but  there 
is  limestone  all  round.  We  have  the  deepest  and  most 
beautiful  wooded  undulations,  but  less  romantic  than  those 
close  to  the  Wye.  We  are  some  two  or  three  miles  from  the 
Forest,  most  of  which  is  richly  timbered,  but  we  have  seen 
very  little  of  it.  The  drive  to  Chepstow  is  magnificent. 
Tintern  is  very  beautiful,  but  disappointed  me ;  it  seems  all 
late  Early  English,  but  all  the  large  windows  are  utterly 
gutted  (I  fancy,  by  Cromwell)  except  the  west.  Of  course  I 
have  plenty  to  do  in  the  way  of  plants,  especially  my  favorite 
Rubi.  Our  village  was  called  in  Elizabeth's  time  '  the  aristo- 
cratickal  village  of  Newland,'  and  there  are  now  more  gentle 
men's  houses  than  others  in  the  village,  but  the  parish 
embraces  a  vast  part  of  the  Forest.  Our  church  is  a  big  late 
Perpendicular  building,  with  countless  vile  changes  and  addi 
tions,  but  having  a  respectable  tower ;  it  looks  well  in  its  noble 

The  following  letter  has  reference  to  the  sufferings, 
physical  and  mental,  of  a  friend,  and  may  illustrate 
some  characteristics  of  the  writer,  without  knowledge  of 
the  particular  circumstances  : — 


CAMBRIDGE,  1850. 

I  scarcely  know  what  to  write  to  you,  feeling  how  com 
pletely  you  must  be  occupied  with  the  accounts  of  poor  —  — . 
Yet  painfully  harassing  as  this  protracted  duration  of  suffering 
cannot  but  be,  we  cannot — at  least  we  ought  not — to  forget 
how  often  such  sufferings  are  medicinal  in  all  their  bitterness, 


and  are  turned  into  blessed  instruments  of  softening  and 
purifying.  Even  the  words  in  --  's  letter  of  "  more  comfort 
of  mind,  as  well  as  body,"  without  attaching  to  them  too  much 
significance,  do  yet,  I  think,  seem  to  support  a  strong  hope 
that  it  is  even  so  in  this  case.  A  mind  disappointed  and  ill 
at  ease  with  itself  cannot  pass  through  such  fires  uninfluenced 
the  one  way  or  the  other  ;  if  it  be  not  driven  in  upon  itself 
with  tenfold  bitterness  swelling  almost  to  madness,  it  must 
be  suffering  its  dross  to  be  purged  away  and  approaching  a 
more  peaceful  and  happy  state.  But  the  truer  and  deeper  the 
improvement,  the  less  noise  and  outward  trumpeting  of  it 
shall  we  hear  ;  we  must  be  content  with  any  chance  intimation 
of  the  improvement  that  may  reach  us,  —  here  a  little  sign, 
and  there  a  little  sign.  And  even  if  we  hear  none  at  all,  and 
can  perceive  from  a  distance  no  stirring  of  a  genuine  life, 
still  we  have  no  right  —  nay,  we  should  be  presumptuous  and 
impious  —  to  infer  that  there  is  no  life  there.  I  do  not  know 
what  your  experience  in  this  matter  is,  but  hardly  a  month 
passes  without  showing  me  how  blind  even  the  keenest-sighted 
of  such  judgements  are.  It  is  hardest  to  think  well  where  there 
is  manifest  hypocrisy  ;  yet  even  there  our  uncharitable  thoughts 
are  often  rebuked.  But  how  much  more  reason  have  we  to 
hope,  where  there  is  an  outward  crust  of  hardness,  that  there 
may  be  a  well  of  life  springing  within  !  There  may  be  a  long 
and  weary  strife,  but  remembering  Who  it  is  that  is  even  now 
fighting,  and  that  He  is  stronger  than  the  devil  (hard  as  it  is 
to  remember),  how  dare  we  despair  of  the  victory?  And 
then  —  the  last  enemy  that  shall  be  overcome  is  Death. 


July  zyd,  1850  [finished  July 

...  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  see  the  Exhibition  before 
it  closes.  E.  Landseer's  large  picture  is  a  total  failure; 
only  individual  details  are  good.  His  'Good  Doggie' 
is  excellent,  and  nothing  more  of  his.  As  I  have  the 
Catalogue  by  me,  it  may  save  you  some  time  if  I  mention 
a  few  of  those,  as  far  as  I  can  remember  them,  which 


struck  me  most.  Creswick's  '  Wind  on  Shore '  is  excellent. 
Frost's  'Disarming  of  Cupid'  and  Pickersgill's  'Samson 
Betrayed '  are  tolerable  in  a  style  that  is  bad  unless  first-rate ; 
the  former  is  too  lady's-maid-ish.  Stanfield's  '  Macbeth,' 
the  best  in  the  Exhibition,  and  the  only  imaginative  picture 
of  his  that  I  have  ever  seen ;  a  true  natural  mountain  scene 
on  a  lowering  day,  the  figures  very  (rightly)  subordinate. 
Turner's  three  or  four  I  hadn't  time  to  try  to  see  in  the 
crowd,  but  think  they  would  repay  a  week  or  two's  study; 
they  consist  chiefly  of  effused  Seville  orange  pulp.  .  .  .  The 
'Water-Colours'  are  rather  poor.  Gastineau's  are,  I  think, 
the  best,  though  some  of  Copley  Fielding's  quite  rival  his  ;  but 
I  own  I  care  little  for  any  of  them.  Some  of,  I  think,  Fripp's 
would  amuse  you  as  miracles  of  colouring  in  a  passion.1  .  .  . 
Well,  I  must  now  try  to  recall  some  of  Maurice's  conversation 
when  I  was  in  London.  He  spoke  of  the  University  Com 
mission  as  capable  of  doing  some  good,  and  laught  at  Prince 
Albert  having  aught  to  say  to  it ;  hoped  they  might  hit  upon 
some  plan  for  allowing  fellows  or,  at  all  events,  tutors  to 
marry,  on  the  ground  of  the  vast  good  an  improved  female 
society  would  do  in  the  University.  ...  He  asked  what  was 
the  state  of  things  in  Cambridge  ?  I  told  him  we  were  clogged 
and  deadened  by  Via  Mediaism.  "  In  short,  Eclecticism  ?  "  he 
askt.  '  Yes,'  I  said ;  '  it  had,  however,  one  advantage  ;  we 
were  nearly  free  from  party  spirit.'  His  answer  was,  "  I  am 
sure  that  is  anything  but  a  healthy  sign  among  young  men. 
It  is  just  the  same  at  Oxford ;  all  is  stagnant  and  dead."  I 
said,  '  I  fancied  there  had  been  something  stirring  in  dough's 
line.'  '  No,  he  thought  not ;  there  might  be  infidelity  in 
plenty,  but  if  so  it  was  passive,  '  stagnant '  infidelity.  The  only 
strong  feeling  he  saw  there  was  a  general  discontent  of  the 
younger  men  with  everything,  the  University,  and  above  all, 
with  the  apathy  of  the  higher  Dons.'  He  talked  a  good  deal 
of  Crete's  account  of  Socrates  and  the  Sophists,  especially  his 
vindication  (?)  of  the  latter,  agreeing  with  his  facts,  but  think 
ing  that  they  were  precisely  to  be  condemned  for  what  Grote 
praised  them  for,  viz.  especially  their  aim  to  make  the  young 

1  These   notes   on   pictures  are  selected  from    a   long  list  of  similar 


men  clever  and  powerful  by  persuasion.  He  expatiated  most 
lovingly  on  Socrates  as  the  Athenian  of  Athenians,  the  man 
who  above  all  others  threw  himself  into  the  feelings  and 
cravings  of  his  age,  especially  of  its  young  men  ;  and  dwelt  on 
the  fact  that,  so  far  from  being  the  sublimely  abstracted  and 
denationalized  sage  of  Grote,  he  could  not  have  been  so 
mighty  for  all  future  ages  and  nations  had  he  not  been  the 
man  of  his  own  age  and  nation. 

He  did  not  talk  much  of  the  Gorham  question,  but  hoped 
the  Bishops  might  do  something  good ;  he  seemed  chiefly 
pained  and  disappointed  at  what  he  called  the  want  of  con 
fidence  of  the  High  Churchmen  in  their  own  principle,  the 
feeling  they  seemed  to  have  that  the  truth  was  made  more 
true  or  false  by  decisions  of  synods  or  judgements  of  courts. 
He  spoke  in  very  high  terms  of  Thompson  as  a  *  solid,  sub 
stantial  man,'  and  seemed  greatly  delighted  at  Whewell's 
having  lately  declared  him  to  be  the  most  valuable  man  in 
Cambridge.  Hardly  a  word  past  on  Socialism. 

I  am  afraid  I  have  forgotten  several  subjects,  but  in  one 
especially  you  will  be  interested.  Altho'  you  have  said 
nothing,  I  have  had  a  feeling  that  you  fully  shared  with  me  the 
consciousness  of  how  much  reflexion  was  rendered  necessary 
by  the  three  or  four  last  pages  of  his  anonymous  pamphlet  on 
the  Gorham  case, — I  mean  where  he  contemplates  a  secession 
in  case  the  Government  and  Evangelicals  should  succeed  in 
altering  the  Baptismal  Services.  I  had  been  much  perplext  to 
discover  the  right  course  in  such  a  case,  and  had  been  inclined 
to  think  that  lay  communion  was  the  only  right  thing,  as  it 
seemed  schismatical  to  leave  the  body  of  the  Church  because 
it  had  abolisht  one  of  its  former  doctrines.  I  was  determined, 
as  I  went  with  Maurice  from  his  house  to  Harley  Street,  to 
sound  him  well,  and  get  him  to  remove  this  objection  if  pos 
sible.  Of  course  I  did  it  very  gently  and  cautiously,  lest  he 
should  think  I  was  hot-headedly  agog  for  secession  and  a 
Mons  Sacer,  nor  did  I  allude  to  the  pamphlet.  I  spoke  of  the 
gloomy  prospect,  should  the  Evangelicals  carry  on  their  pre 
sent  victory  so  as  to  alter  the  Services.  He  trusted  God 
would  spare  us  such  a  trial.  I  assented,  but  urged  that  it  was 
a  more  than  possible  contingency.  This  he  allowed,  but 


exprest  an  opinion  that  there  was  dormant  in  the  middle 
classes  a  most  strong  feeling  which  would  resist  a  proclama 
tion  that  their  children  were  Sons  of  the  Devil.  I  trusted  it 
might  be  so,  but  said  that  surely  such  a  feeling  was  not  now 
active,  and  that  it  would  require  such  a  preliminary  event  as 
the  alteration  of  the  Services  to  rouse  the  feeling  into  life,  and 
that  nothing  but  experience  would  show  them  what  the  denial 
of  Baptism  involved.  To  this  he  assented.  I  said  that,  if  so, 
this  middle-class  resistance  would  avail  but  little,  in  the  first 
instance,  to  ward  off  the  calamity.  What  did  he  think  we 
should  be  bound  to  do  in  such  a  case  ?  He  at  last  (the  whole 
was  reluctant,  evidently  from  the  fear  I  have  already  mentioned, 
manifested  in  the  pamphlet)  said  he  feared  we  must  give  up  the 
emoluments  of  the  Church.  I  said  that  was  not  what  I  was 
thinking  of,  but  I  felt  it  hard  to  decide  whether  or  not  it  were 
schism  so  to  leave  the  body.  He  said  that  undoubtedly  to 
cut  oneself  off  would  be  schism  ;  that  he  had  always  contended 
that  the  act  must  be  our  adversaries',  not  our  own  (this  he  had 
already  more  than  once  repeated).  Then,  I  supposed,  he  con 
sidered  the  alteration  of  the  Services  as  such  a  schismatical  act  ? 
"  Doubtless,"  he  said ;  "  it  would  be  declaring  themselves  held 
together  not  by  sacraments  but  opinions."  "Then,"  I  said, 
"  if  I  understand  you  right,  you  think  that  by  such  an  act  they 
would  be  voluntarily  cutting  themselves  off  from  the  body 
of  the  Church,  and  declaring  themselves  to  be  only  a  sect, 
inasmuch  as  they  would  be  professing  that  the  ground  of  their 
communion  was  not  union  in  the  body  of  Christ,  but  the 
accident  of  their  holding  intellectually  the  same  opinions." 
"  Exactly,"  was  his  answer.  (I  cannot  be  sure  of  the  words ; 
the  sense  I  have  given  correctly).  Much  subsequent  reflexion 
has  convinced  me  that  his  view  is  right,  and  that  by  such  an 
act  the  Establishment  would  float  off  on  its  own  raft,  leaving 
us  standing  as  before  on  the  rock  of  our  old  Catholic  ground. 

I  wish  I  could  remember  well  my  very  interesting  conversa 
tion  with  Ludlow  as  we  walked  from  the  Central  Association 
Office  in  New  Oxford  Street  to  Maurice's  house.  I  can  recall 
but  two  or  three  points.  I  remember  saying,  "Then  you 
regard  the  relation  of  employer  to  employed  as  essentially  evil, 
and  would  do  your  utmost  to  destroy  it  altogether?"  "Certainly 

VOL.  I  M 


I  object  altogether  to  the  relation  of  master  and  hired  servant, 
for  this  reason,  that  the  hire  or  wages  will  always  be  dependent 
on  the  rate  of  wages  in  the  market."  "But  supposing  the 
amount  of  wages  in  any  case  not  to  depend  on  the  market  rate?" 
"  I  cannot  entertain  such  a  supposition,  because  wages  always 
must  be  regulated  by  the  market  rate."  I  prest  him  no  further 
here,  being  quite  satisfied  at  having  made  a  profest  assailer  of 
political  economy  doctrines  entirely  rest  his  support  of  one  of 
the  main  elements  of  Socialism  upon  an  assumed  axiom  of 
political  economy,  which  goes  on  the  assumption  that  selfish 
ness  is  the  law  of  men's  actions  !  Again,  I  urged  that  I  fully 
adopted  the  Christian  principle  of  co-operation,  but  repudiated 
the  Socialistic  scheme  as  substituting  a  mechanical  for  a  moral 
co-operation ;  that  I  thought  a  real  fellow-working  was  chiefly, 
if  not  only,  possible  under  the  old  so-called  'competitive' 
machinery.  To  this  he  replied  that  practically,  as  men  are 
selfish,  mutual  assistance  and  co-operation,  springing  from 
merely  moral  motives  instead  of  from  machinery,  are  impos 
sible.  Another  strange  confession  !  Further,  I  asked  him 
whether  he  wished  to  carry  out  the  machinery  to  the  utmost 
and  universally.  "  Doubtless."  "  Then  have  you  thought  of  the 
time  when  individual  tradesmen  shall  have  been  swallowed  up 
into  a  number  of  trading  associations  ?  Will  there  not  then 
be  a  competition  between  rival  associations  infinitely  more 
terrible  and  crushing  than  the  present  competition  of  indivi 
duals  ?  or  how  will  you  be  able  to  blend  the  associations  ? " 
"  That,"  said  he,  "  is  the  rock  ahead  of  Christian  Socialism. 
I  do  not  see  my  way  at  all  through  those  difficulties ;  only, 
feeling  sure  that  we  are  on  the  right  way,  I  trust  that,  when 
the  time  comes,  we  shall  be  guided  to  what  is  right."  He 
further  added  that  Co-operation  was  not  intended  to  stand 
alone  without  Exchange,  and  that  the  latter  principle  would 
remove  some  of  these  difficulties.  "  Exchange  !  "  I  exclaimed ; 
"  that  is  quite  new  to  me.  I  never  heard  before  of  Exchange 
in  connexion  with  Socialism  ;  that  is  an  element  so  totally  new 
and  important,  that  I  must  take  time  to  think  about  it." 
"  Why !  we  always  look  on  Exchange  as  essential  to  Co-opera 
tion."  He  then  turned  round  to  A.  Macmillan,  who  was 
walking  behind  with  Furnival,  and  shouted,  "  Macmillan,  have 


you  never  told  Hort  about  the  principle  of  Exchange  in  con 
nexion  with  Socialism  ?  "  "  No,"  he  shouted  back,  "  I  don't 
know  anything  about  it,  and  I  don't  want ;  Socialism  is  enough 
for  me ! "  Ludlow  laughed,  but  by  this  time  we  were  more 
than  half  down  Queen's  Square,  and  the  conversation  ceased. 
One  or  two  more  things.  Some  one  said  that  Kingsley  either 
had  just  had,  or  was  just  going  to  have,  a  long  controversial 
correspondence  on  the  subject  with  J.  S.  Mill.  Maurice  told 
me  that  he  heard  that  throughout  the  manufacturing  districts 
the  men  were  beginning  to  find  that  machinery  (material)  was 
really  their  friend,  and  that  its  seeming  injuries  must  be  re 
butted  by  changes  in  the  relations  of  employment.  Mrs. 
Maurice  told  me  that  of  the  many  poor  needlewomen  who 
had  been  to  her  to  be  examined,  not  above  three  or  four  were 
even  tolerable  workers.  I  wish  much  to  hear  more  about  this 
*  Exchange,'  but  shall  not,  I  suppose,  till  Chevallier's  lectures 
are  published ;  at  present  it  seems  to  me  negative  to  the  idea 
of  Socialism.  I  have  never  yet  been  able  to  ascertain  from 
any  of  you  wherein  the  Socialistic  part,  i.e.  the  machinery  of 
'  Christian  Socialism,'  differs  from  that  of  other  Socialism ; 
the  moral  principle  of  co-operation  I  fully  recognise,  but  think 
that  Maurice  makes  his  definition  deceptive  and  arbitrary  by 
including  it.  I  told  them  at  the  Office  that  they  must  con 
sider  me  as  a  spy  in  the  enemy's  camp.  Furnival  protested 
that  this  was  not  true,  and  that,  as  I  allowed  their  '  principle,' 
I  was  really  a  *  Christian  Socialist ' ;  doubtless  I  fall  under 
Maurice's  verbal  definition,  but  utterly  repudiate  the  name,  as 
I  am  not  what  you  all  understand  by  it. 

This  letter  has  been  kept  shamefully  long ;  I  was  at  Bath 
all  last  week.  Sunday  evening  and  Monday  I  was  tortured 
with  toothache,  and  nearly  maddened  on  Tuesday,  so  I  went 
in  all  speed  to  Cheltenham  and  had  the  offender  extracted, 
returning  to-day  (July  3ist)  to  Newland.  I  am  sorry  to  see 
the  Exhibition  is  closed  already.  I  have  not  yet  seen  Words 
worth's  new  poem.  I  observe  the  new  Christian  Observer 
has  a  review  of  Kingsley's  Sermons.  How  magnificent  and 
humiliating  Carlyle's  '  Hudson's  Statue '  is  !  I  have  not  yet 
been  able  to  get  hold  of  either  the  June  or  July  Pendennis. 
Well,  I  am  getting  sleepy,  so  will  say  good-night.J 



WESTON-SUPER-MARE,  September  i2th,  1850. 

...  I  have  got  Emerson's  last  book,  but  only  dipt;  his 
remarks  on  Plato  seemed  acute  taken  singly,  but  I  thought  his 
whole  idea  of  him  absolutely  false ;  he  seemed  to  try  to  make 
out  the  most  €7xre/3?js  of  the  antients  to  be  an  atheist  like  unto 
himself.  As  for  Maurice  writing  in  the  Leader,  Ch.  Words 
worth  is  about  as  likely ;  even  Open  Council  is  not  much 
in  his  way.  The  letter  on  Queen's  College  is  indeed  wonder 
ful  and  valuable ;  I  wish  he  oftener  spoke  out  in  like  manner. 
Ludlow's  in  Fraser  was  very  inferior,  tho'  good.  I  forget 
whether  I  ever  recommended  to  you  Massingberd's  pamphlet 
on  W.  Goode's  publication  of  P.  Martyr's  letter.  It  is  most 
excellent  and  of  great  permanent  value,  as  showing  the  real 
behaviour  of  Cranmer,  etc.,  as  to  Baptism ;  I  need  not  say  it 
is  at  once  charitable  and  most  hearty.  I  gave  up  the  Hulsean 
because  the  necessary  reading  was  impracticable — even  had  I 
been  at  Cambridge ;  and  I  could  not  carry  down  a  library  into 
the  country.  The  Burney  *  subject  is,  '  The  unity  of  design 
displayed  in  the  successive  dispensations  of  religion  recorded 
in  Scripture,  as  an  argument  for  the  truth  of  Revelation.'  I 
have  written  a  few  pages,  expanding  the  passage  quoted  pp. 
21,  22  of  Maurice's  letter  on  revelation,  general  to  all  mankind, 
as  well  as  special  (as  in  the  Bible)  to  the  Jews  and  Christian 
Church ;  then  I  am  about  asking  what  kinds  of  revelation 
demand  an  unity ;  not  the  mere  teaching  of  practical  sagacity, 
nor  the  Paleyan  notion  of  future  rewards  and  punishments ; 
but  that  we  cannot  give  an  answer  about  the  higher  wisdom 
(whether  a  revelation  of  that  demands  an  unity)  till  we  find 
what  is  its  object,  Truth;  in  short,  that  what  gives  all  its 
unity  to  Revelation  is  that  its  central  subject  is  the  Being  of 
God.  I  then  hope  to  trace  the  development  of  this  revelation 
through  the  'dispensations'  of  the  Bible,  showing  how  all 
is  connected  with  the  gradual  disclosure  of  the  full  Name  of 
God.  I  am  writing  very  soberly,  but  fear  I  shall  be  too 
philosophical  in  language  for  them. 

I  am  not  going  in  for  the  Fellowship. 

1  The  Burney  prize  is  for  a  theological  essay,  and  is  open  to  graduates. 

AGE  22 



The  next  two  letters  are  to  a  friend  who  was  per 
plexed  with  conscientious  difficulties  about  the  marriage 
of  the  clergy. 


NEWLAND,  June  1850. 

...  I  think  I  can  enter  into  your  present  feeling.  You 
fully  concur,  I  fancy,  in  all  that  I  said  about  the  wrong  of 
setting  for  oneself  a  special  saint-morality  which  will  not  fit 
other  people ;  but  still  you  feel  that  at  all  hazards,  at  the  risk 
of  any  conceivable  inconsistency,  you  cannot  conscientiously 
do  that  which  seems  now  so  often  to  lead  to  sin  and  misery. 
You  find  no  reconciliation  of  this  present  war  of  your  con 
science  and  reason  ;  only  do  not  assume  that  the  reconciliation 
is  impossible  or,  at  all  events,  impracticable  for  you.  God 
cannot  be  the  author  of  anomaly,  but  to  those  who  wait  for 
the  light  He  will  in  His  own  way  show  the  Harmony  and 
Order  which  He  has  establisht.  Do  not  then,  whatever 
present  appearances  may  be,  take  it  for  granted  that  God 
demands  of  you  to  contravene  His  earliest  law  for  man, 
"  It  is  not  good  for  the  man  to  be  alone,"  but  believe  firmly 
that  His  Truth  cannot  be  shaken  by  all  the  lies  of  men  and 
devils,  and  that  in  due  time  He  will  make  known  to  you 
His  Will  concerning  you  and  all  men  in  the  way  which  shall 
seem  to  Him  good ;  and,  believing  this,  you  will  not  willingly 
set  up  any  theory  or  resolution  which  may  hereafter  blind 
your  eyes  from  discerning  His  ways,  or  clog  your  feet  from 
following  them. 


NEWLAND,  October  $th,  1850. 

.  .  .  With  regard  to  Luke  xx.  27-38  and  the  parallel  pas 
sages,  I  merely  meant  that  our  Lord,  when  asked  vexatious 
questions  by  the  Pharisees  or  Sadducees,  hardly  ever  or 
never  gave  them  real  answers,  but  either  made  expressly  ad 
hominem  appeals,  or  asserted  some  truth  which  in  some  manner 
superseded  the  question,  or  showed  that  there  were  more  im- 


portant  ones ;  thus  I  infer  that  our  Lord's  words  here  were  not 
meant  as  an  answer  to  the  Sadducees'  question,  as  they  would 
have  been  had  they  been  given  to  the  disciples.  At  all 
events  I  must  remind  you  that,  except  by  remote  inference, 
the  verses  will  not  support  your  theory,  for  tho'  yapova-iv  and 
eKya/xto-Kovrat  should  deny  that  marriages  are  made  after 
death,  they  certainly  cannot  assert  anything  about  the  dissolu 
tion  of  previously -made  marriages.  The  passage  is  most 
hard,  nor  do  I  expect  to  understand  it  till  I  can  see  more  of 
the  relation  of  sex  to  the  image  of  God.  The  difficulty  is 
greatly  increased  by  the  way  in  which  v.  36  is  made  to  support 
v.  35.  Our  translators  were  not  scholars  enough  to  see  that 
they  were  destroying  the  true  connexion  by  missing  the  force 
of  ovre  yap-  •  •  • 

The  'self-anatomy'  you  speak  of  may  surely  be  either 
good  or  evil;  to  be  free  from  it  altogether,  as  is  the  case 
with  many  of  the  noblest  women,  is  no  doubt  a  blessing, 
and  suited  to  their  nature.  I  much  doubt  whether  it  be 
the  same  with  men ;  a  more  distinct  introspection  of  our 
own  motives  and  feelings  seems  natural  to  us,  and  we  are 
likely  to  go  wrong  without  it.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  apt  to 
become  a  dangerous  and  'morbid  trick,'  when  its  predomi 
nance  makes  the  judgement  chiefly  analytical ;  then  we  come 
practically  to  look  upon  ourselves  as  a  collection  of  wheels 
and  springs,  moved  mechanically  by  'motives,'  and  we  are 
suspicious  and  jealous  of  ourselves  in  a  way  the  reverse  of  true 
Christian  humility  and  watchfulness,  misinterpreting  our  best 
and  noblest  impulses  either  by  persuading  ourselves  that  they 
are  merely  imaginary,  or  by  resolving  them  into  corrupt 
wishes.  We  then  act  in  the  same  way  towards  others,  especi 
ally  those  who  may  be  in,  or  may  be  brought  into,  any  near 
relation  to  ourselves,  mistrusting  in  them  all  that  is  not  com 
prehensible.  Yet  I  doubt  not  that  self-anatomy  is  in  some 
form  needful  to  deliver  us  from  carnal  delusions ;  and  wisely- 
tempered  self-consciousness,  if  it  has  its  miseries,  may  also 
.bring  blessings  unspeakable  both  on  ourselves  and  on  those 
who  have  it  not.  True  knowledge  is  neither  of  parts  nor  of 
wholes  exclusively,  but  of  each  in  each.  And  they  must  be 
very  peculiar  and  miserable  circumstances  indeed  that  can 


ever  make  blindness  a  blessing  or  a  thing  to  be  desired ;  kv  Se 
</>aet  KOL  oXecro-ov  is  of  universal  application.  Hence  the 
venerable  fancy  of  making  Love  blind  always  seems  to  me 
rather  a  half-falsehood  than  a  half-truth.  It  suits  the  Panthe 
istic  leaven  now  spread  everywhere  to  picture  God  as  tolerant 
of  evil,  sorry  for  it,  but  too  much  averse  to  giving  pain  to  use 
stern  remedies  for  its  extirpation,  and  this,  forsooth,  because 
He  is  Love  !  Yet  surely  He  whose  love  is  best  exprest  in  the 
sacrifice  of  His  Son  must,  by  the  very  force  of  His  love,  have 
the  keenest  vision  and  the  intensest  hatred  of  any,  even  the 
least  spot  of  sin  in  the  children  whom  He  loves.  .  .  .  Again, 
tho'  in  the  picture  you  have  drawn  'instinct'  may  'stop 
short,'  '  reason '  need  not  '  ply  her  office '  alone,  but  take  the 
child  instinct  by  the  hand,  whose  eyes  may  often  see  things 
hidden  from  the  wise  and  prudent.  If  reason,  so  accom 
panied,  find  it  hard  to  tell  whether  what  she  views  be  merely 
'  fancy's  brook,'  that  may  soon  be  '  waterless  and  dry,'  or 

The  gift  for  which,  all  gifts  above, 
Him  praise  we,  who  is  God,  the  Giver, 

it  may  indeed  be  true  love,  yet,  it  would  seem,  it  must  be 
so  immature  and  imperfect  thrt  reason  may  safely  ponder 
whether  it  be  advisable  to  let  it  ripen ;  if  so,  vogue  la  gaftre  / 
if  not,  crushing  may  be  a  duty  j  but,  however  painful  at  first, 
it  is  not  likely  to  leave  permanent  rankling.  I  do  not  mean 
that  even  the  riper  gift  must  not  sometimes  needs  be  trodden 
down,  but  then  much  more  than  { advisableness '  is  requisite ; 
this,  methinks,  must  often  be  God's  last  gracious  hammer  to 
bruise  a  stubborn  and  flinty  heart. 


CAMBRIDGE,  October  2Q///,  1850. 

...  I  send  you  by  this  post  Alton  Locke^  thinking  you 
may  like  to  read  it.  Of  course  either  of  our  Bepton  friends 
are  welcome  to  do  the  same,  though  I  am  not  sure  that  it  is 
the  wholesomest  food  imaginable.  During  the  early  part  I 
was  intensely  delighted,  though  driven  nearly  to  desperation 


every  other  page  with  something  which  disgusted  me.  The 
middle  I  was  rather  indifferent  to,  though  of  course  much  in 
terested  in  it ;  but  the  last  six  chapters  left  me  in  a  most  un 
comfortable  and  annoyed  state  of  mind.  I  cannot  at  all  take 
to  her  Ladyship,  your  namesake ;  she  is  apparently  intended 
as  a  sort  of  female  Maurice,  but  she  only  disgusts  me.  And  all 
that  theology  at  the  end,  true  as  much  of  it  was,  seemed  quite 
stagnant  as  I  read  it, — so  different  from  the  burning  words  in 
Yeast,  that  used  to  make  me  almost  bound  from  the  floor  at 
the  Union.  The  chapter  on  Miracles  seems  a  strange  perver 
sion  of  a  beautiful  idea  of  Maurice's,  or  of  Trench's,  or  of 
both ;  but,  taken  by  itself,  as  far  as  I  understand  it,  it  denies 
miracles.  And,  in  spite  of  all  the  talk  about  God,  I  do — I 
grieve  to  say  it — feel  that  the  idea  of  Him  is  wholly  absent 
from  the  book,  except  in  bits  of  Sandy  Mackaye.  The  book 
is  pure  Humamtarianism,  with  God  as  the  instrument  to  bring 
it  about.  But  Sandy  Mackaye  is  almost  always  thoroughly 
delightful ;  he  is  no  mere  portrait  of  Carlyle,  but  Kingsley 
evidently  had  him  in  his  mind  all  the  while.  You  will 
chuckle  greatly  over  the  Emersonian  sermon.  Kingsley  is 
cruelly  unjust  to  Lillian.  Granted  that  she  is  frivolous,  she 
need  not  be  so  always ;  surely  her  type  of  character  is  a  neces 
sary  and  beautiful  one,  albeit  not  the  highest  by  many  degrees  ; 
and  then  the  absurdity  of  that  'serene  imperial  Eleanore' 
telling  Alton  that  he  had  been  in  love  only  with  her  physical 
beauty.  Granted  that  the  difference  of  their  stations  made 
him  to  feel  chiefly  adorative  admiration  such  as  (even  as 
Kingsley  observes)  that  felt  by  the  Greek  youth  for  the 
statue,  still  that  was  not  all.  Surely  Alton  would  any  day 
have  risked  his  life  for  hers  in  a  way  he  would  not  have  done 
for  any  other  human  creature,  and  we  are  assured  it  was  a 
most  pure  feeling.  Why  then  give  him  such  a  pedantic  joba 
tion  ?  The  book  grieves  me  much. 

The  heathenish  old  porch  in  front  of  St.  Mary's  is  knocked 
away,  and  a  really  beautiful,  though  almost  too  elaborate,  Per 
pendicular  doorway  put  in  its  place. 

I  may  mention  in  passing  that  we  had  on  Sunday  night 
c  Plead  thou  my  cause,'  and  I  was  raised,  I  verily  believe,  to 
the  tenth  heaven. 



CAMBRIDGE,  December  yd,  1850. 

I  did  not  send  in  for  the  'Burney'  after  all;  I 
found  it  very  hard  to  move  on  without  infinitely  more  thought 
than  'twas  possible  to  bestow.  ...  At  Degree  Time  I  am  to 
get  new  rooms,  second  floor  NevilPs  Court,  the  first  staircase 
from  the  arches  going  towards  the  Hall;  they  are  exactly 
what  I  wanted. 

.  .  .  Lees  of  Christ's,  who  has  been  reading  with  Kingsley, 
describes  a  rich  scene.  Maurice  was  there  at  Eversley  for  two 
nights,  and  on  one  of  them  the  house  was  attacked  by  burglars. 
The  noise  made  by  our  heroes  in  getting  up  dispersed  them, 
but  as  their  dodge  is  to  wait  till  inmates  are  sounder  asleep 
after  the  first  disturbance,  they  resolved  to  sit  up  all  night 
with  a  light ;  so  there  sat  our  dear  sage  in  his  trousers  and 
shirt,  with  his  sleeves  turned  up  ready  for  action.  The  others 
had  each  their  cigar  and  brandy  and  water,  and  with  the 
greatest  difficulty  got  him  to  join  them  in  the  latter.  Oh, 
what  would  I  have  given  to  see  it  ? 


NEWLAND,  Christmas  Eve,  1850. 

Though  this  cannot  reach  you  till  the  26th  or  27th,  I 
must  not  omit  to  send  a  line  to  wish  you  all  the  blessings  of 
this  season  of  life  in  the  midst  of  death.  .  .  . 

These  Advent  lessons  and  anthems  do  indeed,  as  you  say, 
thunder  the  Law  and  whisper  the  Gospel  in  our  ears.  I  had 
to  read  two  Sundays  ago  Isa.  xxvi.  in  Chapel.  It  was  hard 
not  to  make  a  fool  of  one's  self;  those  verses,  the  i2th,  i3th, 
1 5th,  i  yth,  culminating  in  the  i8th,  and  answered  by  the  voice 
from  heaven  of  the  ipth,  and  then  the  Athanasian  chant  of 
the  2oth  and  2ist,  wedding  Advent  to  Christmas,  the  triumph 
of  judgement  to  the  angels'  song  of  peace  and  goodwill. 
Well,  the  day  of  the  Nativity  is  begun,  and  I  must  go  to  bed. 

Have  you  seen  Maurice's  delicious  letters  on  Education  in 
the  Christian  Socialist  ?  I  will  send  the  Leaders  when  I  get 
to  Cambridge,  which  will  probably  be  in  a  fortnight. 



1851-1857.     Age  22-29. 

THE  year  1851  saw  the  introduction  at  Cambridge  of 
the  '  new  Triposes '  in  Moral  and  in  Natural  Sciences, 
for  both  of  which  Hort  entered,  and  in  each  of  which 
he  was  placed  in  the  First  Class  ;  in  the  former  he 
obtained  the  Moral  Philosophy  prize,  and  in  the  latter 
he  was  'distinguished  in  Physiology  and  Botany.' 
The  examinations  themselves  were  severe ;  in  each 
there  were  set,  on  one  of  the  days,  two  papers  of  four 
hours  each,  and  there  was  an  interval  of  only  a  few 
weeks  between  the  Triposes.  Nor  were  these  his  only 
examinations  in  the  year ;  he  competed  in  October 
for  a  fellowship,  and,  four  days  after  the  conclusion 
of  that  ordeal,  entered  on  the  Voluntary  Theological 
Examination.  His  own  letters  give  sufficient  account 
of  the  scope  of  the  new  Triposes,  as  also  of  his  com 
parative  failure  in  the  fellowship  examination.  The 
amount  of  reading  got  through  in  this  and  the  pre 
ceding  year  must  have  been  enormous.  Yet  he  found 
time  to  attend  the  meetings  of  various  societies,  and 
in  June  joined  the  mysterious  company  of  the 
'  Apostles.'  The  first  paper  which  he  contributed 
was  on  the  subject  '  Might  is  Right,'  in  defence  of 



Carlyle.  The  titles  of  other  papers  read  by  him 
were :  '  Can  Pope  teach  our  young  poets  to  sing  ? '  (a 
criticism  of  a  dictum  of  C.  Kingsley) ;  *  Is  government 
an  evil  ? '  (a  defence  of  authority) ;  *  Must  the  giants 
live  apart  ? '  (on  a  saying  of  Thackeray)  ;  *  Is  irony 
less  true  than  matter  of  fact  ? '  *  Is  wealth  the  founda 
tion  of  rank  ? '  '  Should  all  honours  be  given  to  the 
horrible  ? '  '  Can  anything  be  proved  by  Logic  ? ' 
Most  of  these  were  not  so  much  essays  as  challenges 
to  discussion,  couched  in  a  paradoxical  form.  He 
remained  always  a  grateful  and  loyal  member  of  the 
secret  Club,  which  has  now  become  famous  for  the 
number  of  distinguished  men  who  have  belonged  to  it. 
In  his  time  the  Club  was  in  a  manner  reinvigorated, 
and  he  was  mainly  responsible  for  the  wording  of  the 
oath  which  binds  the  members  to  a  conspiracy  of  silence. 
Mr.  Vernon  Lushington  remembers  that  at  the  Apostles' 
meetings  he  considered  Hort  "the  most  remarkable 
figure  of  our  time,"  and  that  he  "  always  spoke  very 
seriously  on  these  occasions."  That  he  considered  his 
membership  as  a  great  responsibility  is  shown  by  the 
fact  that,  before  consenting  to  join,  he  asked  Maurice's 

Two  other  societies  of  widely  different  aims  were 
started  in  this  same  year,  in  both  of  which  Hort 
seems  to  have  been  the  moving  spirit ;  one  a  small 
club  formed  for  the  practice  of  choral  music,  the 
other  called  by  its  members  the  '  Ghostly  Guild/ 

1  A  good  account  of  the  Club,  whose  proper  name  is  the  '  Cam 
bridge  Conversazione  Society,'  is  given  in  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen's  Life  oj 
Sir J.  Fitzjames  Stephen  (pp.  99  foil.);  he  refers  to  a  historical  article 
by  Mr.  W.  D.  Christie  in  Macmillarfs  Magazine  for  November  1864. 
A  description  of  it  was  given  recently  by  the  late  Hon.  Roden  Noel  in 
the  New  Review.  This  paper  contained  some  very  inaccurate  statements 
about  Hort,  for  which  Mr.  Roden  Noel  afterwards  expressed  his  regret. 


the  object  of  which  was  to  collect  and  classify  authen 
ticated  instances  of  what  are  now  called  *  psychical 
phenomena/  for  which  purpose  an  elaborate  schedule 
of  questions  was  issued.  The  '  Bogie  Club/  as  scoffers 
called  it,  aroused  a  certain  amount  of  derision,  and 
even  some  alarm  ;  it  was  apparently  born  too  soon. 

A  Shakespeare  Society  must  also  be  added  to  the 
list ;  and,  as  Hort's  attendance  at  meetings  of  these 
various  kinds  seems  from  his  journal  to  have  been 
regular,  one  finds  little  difficulty  in  believing  that 
work  must  sometimes  have  been  driven  into  very 
unconventional  hours.  At  this  time,  if  not  earlier, 
began  the  habit  of  sitting  up  far  into  the  night,  a 
habit  for  which  his  friends  continually  rebuked  him, 
which  left  permanent  ill  effects  on  his  health,  and 
which  he  afterwards  bitterly  regretted.  He  never 
spoke  of  it  but  to  point  a  warning.  On  one  occasion 
he  went  to  sleep  in  the  small  hours  over  his  books, 
and  his  '  Facciolati '  caught  fire  from  a  candle ;  the 
consequences  were  within  a  little  of  being  serious. 
His  friends,  coming  in  to  see  him  in  the  morning,  were 
often  confronted  with  a  notice  bidding  his  bedmaker 
not  to  call  him  till  mid-day. 

In  politics  the  movement  which  most  interested  him 
at  this  time  was  '  Christian  Socialism  ' ;  the  subject  was 
debated  at  the  Union,  and  he  was  chiefly  responsible 
for  an  amendment  (which  was  carried) '  condemning  the 
substitution  of  Socialism  for  the  present  trade  while 
allowing  possible  benefit  from  single  associations.' 
The  Christian  Socialist  newspaper  he  read  regularly, 
and  contributed  to  it  in  October  1851  an  interesting 
'  Prayer  for  Landlords '  of  the  sixteenth  century,  which 
he  had  discovered  in  Professor  Blunt's  History  of 
the  Reformation.  About  the  same  time  there  was 


great  excitement  in  Cambridge  on  the  subject  of 
*  Papal  Aggression,'  and  an  indignation  meeting  at 
the  Union  approved  Lord  John  Russell's  conduct. 
Hort  was  strongly  opposed  to  the  whole  agitation. 
A  few  months  later  he  rejoiced  in  the  fall  of  Lord 
John  Russell's  ministry.  The  future  of  the  Irish 
Church  was  a  subject  much  in  his  mind,  and  the 
duties  of  the  English  Church  towards  it.  In  January 
1852,  when  he  was  under  twenty-four  years  of  age, 
he  wrote  a  letter  to  a  friend  suggesting  what  he  con 
sidered  the  right  course  for  the  English  bishops  to 
take ;  this  letter  was  shown  to  the  Bishop  of  Oxford 
(S.  Wilberforce),  and  drew  from  him  a  careful  and 
courteous  answer. 

Among  the  notable  experiences  of  1851  were  the 
Great  Exhibition,  hearing  the  *  Elijah '  at  Exeter 
Hall  and  two  operas  at  Covent  Garden,  and  Thack 
eray's  Lectures  on  the  English  Humorists  at  Cam 
bridge.  In  the  summer  Hort  saw  much  of  Maurice, 
and  was  introduced  by  him  to  Archdeacon  Hare.  At 
Cambridge  he  gained  a  new  and  abiding  friendship, 
that  of  Henry  Bradshaw,  who,  as  well  as  Mr.  B.  F. 
Westcott  and  Mr.  G.  M.  Gorham,  belonged  to  the 
Choral  Society ;  another  musical  friend  was  Mr.  R. 
B.  Litchfield,  and  he  saw  much  also  of  George 
Brimley,  whose  acute  intellect  he  warmly  appreciated  ; 
and  of  Mr.  W.  Mathews,  his  companion  a  few  years 
later  in  many  Alpine  excursions.  The  history  of  his 
friendship  with  Charles  Kingsley  may  be  gleaned 
from  the  long  and  interesting  letter  written  to  him  on 
24th  February  in  the  brief  interval  between  two  Tripos 
examinations.  A  few  days  of  the  long  vacation  were 
spent  in  an  excursion  to  Newport  (Monmouth),  Caer- 
leon,  etc.,  in  company  with  Mr.  Babington  and  mem- 


bers  of  the  Archaeological  Institute.  He  reviewed, 
besides  other  botanical  books,  the  third  edition  of 
Babington's  British  Flora  in  the  Annals  of  Botany ', 
and  in  the  Guardian  Mr.  Westcott's  first  publication 
on  the  Elements  of  a  Gospel  Harmony.  The  latter 
notice  concludes  with  the  words :  "  We  trust  that 
this  will  not  be  Mr.  Westcott's  last  contribution  to  our 
stock  of  exegetical  divinity." 

In  one  of  the  latest  letters  of  1851  will  be 
observed  what  are,  perhaps,  the  first  signs  of  interest 
in  the  text  of  the  Greek  Testament,  the  subject  which 
was  to  claim  his  chief  attention  for  little  less  than 
thirty  years. 

The  year  1852  was  for  the  most  part  quietly  spent 
in  reading  at  Cambridge,  from  which  he  seems  not  to 
have  been  absent  for  more  than  three  weeks  at  a  time 
all  the  year.  His  only  holidays,  except  short  botanical 
excursions,  were  visits  to  his  father's  new  home  at 
Chepstow  ;  to  Mr.  Gerald  Blunt,  now  married  and  settled 
at  his  first  curacy ;  and .  to  London  for  the  annual 
Apostles'  dinner,  where  he  met  a  distinguished  Apostle 
of  an  earlier  generation,  W.  Monckton  Milnes  (after 
wards  Lord  Houghton),  with  whom  he  breakfasted  next 

Success  in  the  Fellowship  examination  could  hardly 
be  doubtful  after  his  performance  the  year  before.  The 
others  elected  were  C.  Schreiber,  W.  J.  Beamont,  and 
J.  B.  Lightfoot,  the  first  two  of  whom  had  been  placed 
second  and  third  (bracketed  with  Hort)  respectively  in 
the  Classical  Tripos  of  1850.  At  the  customary 
*  Fellowship  Dinner '  to  celebrate  his  election  Hort 
entertained  W.  G.  Clark,  E.  A.  Scott,  C.  B.  Scott, 
A.  A.  Vansittart,  G.  Brimley,  W.  W.  Howard,  H.  W. 
Watson,  C.  Schreiber,  J.  B.  Lightfoot,  H.  M.  Butler, 


G.   V.   Yool,   G.  M.   Gorham,   J.    D.    Williams,  F.    V. 
Hawkins,  H.  Bradshaw,  and  W.  D.  Freshfield. 

Besides  work  for  the  Fellowship  examination,  Hort 
spent  much  time  over  an  essay  for  the  Hulsean  Prize 
on  the  '  Evidences  of  Christianity  as  exhibited  in  the 
writings  of  the  early  Apologists  down  to  Augustine 
inclusively.'  He  had  meant  if  successful  to  work  up 
his  essay  into  a  book.1  On  its  original  scope  he  wrote 
as  follows  in  a  letter  to  the  Rev.  W.  Cureton,  asking 
for  information  about  early  apologetic  literature  con 
tained  in  unpublished  manuscripts  in  the  British 
Museum  : — 

Half  the  essay,  according  to  my  plan,  is  to  consist  of  a 
critical  and  historical  account  of  the  different  Apologies,  in 
the  widest  sense  of  the  word,  containing  original  abstracts, 
with  occasional  extracts,  of  the  extant  works,  translations  of  all 
the  more  important  fragments,  all  the  particulars  that  I  can 
glean  respecting  lost  works,  and  in  each  case  such  biographical 
details  as  may  illustrate  and  enliven  the  subject, — the  whole 
being  set  in  a  continuous  brief  narrative  of  the  persecutions 
and  other  outward  occasions  of  Apologies,  and  of  the  suc 
cessive  relations  in  which  Paganism  and  Judaism  stood  to  the 
Christian  Church  and  vice  versa.  This  is  an  ambitious  scheme, 
too  large  to  carry  out  altogether  in  the  first  instance  .  .  . 
but  Jmy  idea  is  to  treat  the  ante-Eusebian  period  in  the  way 
described  as  fully  as  I  can,  and  give  a  much  slighter  and  more 
superficial  account  of  the  second  period.  It  is  not  likely  that 
any  one  else  will  follow  so  elaborate  a  plan,  and  therefore  I 
may  have  a  reasonable  chance  of  success ;  in  that  event  I 
should  wish  to  complete  the  second  period  on  the  same  scale 
as  the  first  before  publication. 

1  The  MS.  of  this  essay  is  still  extant,  and,  being  found  to  contain 
valuable  matter  of  permanent  interest,  is  likely  to  be  (in  part)  reproduced  ; 
it  is  in  the  hands  of  Prof.  Armitage  Robinson. 

One  of  Hort's  earliest  articles  in  \hejoumal  of  Classical  and  Sacred 
Philology,  that  on  the  Date  of  Justin  Martyr,  was  an  expansion  of  a  note 
made  for  the  same  essay. 


Maurice,  who  was  delighted  with  the  Introduction, 
wrote  to  Hort  about  his  essay  as  follows  : — 

You  must  think  again  of  your  division  of  heresies.  I  do 
not  say  that  it  is  wrong,  but  it  requires  a  good  deal  of  reflection 
before  you  put  it  forth  even  roughly.  I  should  be  disposed 
a  little  to  expand  what  you  have  said  about  internal  and 
external  evidence ;  it  is  a  point  which  requires  so  much  clear 
ing  to  make  people  aware  of  your  meaning.  You  are  on  the 
right  tack,  I  am  convinced.  The  external  evidences  of  the 
last  century  substituted  Nature,  or  at  best  a  Demiurgus,  for 
God.  The  reaction  against  that  mischievous  dogma  is  the 
substitution  of  human  intuitions,  or  at  best  the  Reason  from 
which  they  flow,  for  God.  The  Living  and  True  God  reveals 
Himself  to  the  Reason ;  that  is  the  Mesothesis  of  the  external 
and  internal.  The  idea  of  Revelation  in  the  seventeenth  and 
eighteenth  centuries  was  the  announcement  of  certain  decrees, 
imperative  Laws  enacted  by  God.  In  the  nineteenth  it  is  the 
discovery  of  an  endless  flux,  of  which  the  source  is  in  the 
creature  energy  of  man.  The  gospel  of  God  concerning  Him 
self  in  His  Son  is,  as  you  have  happily  indicated,  the  recon 
ciliation  of  two  ideas  each  of  which  by  itself  tends  to  Atheism 
and  to  superstition. 

The  prize  did  not  fall  to  Hort  ;  his  friend  J.  F. 
Stephen  also  competed  unsuccessfully.  Hort's  defeat 
was  a  considerable  mortification  ;  more  important,  how 
ever,  than  success  or  failure  in  this  particular  competition 
was  the  impetus  given,  by  reading  the  necessary  books, 
to  his  desire  to  devote  himself  to  the  study  of  ecclesias 
tical  history,  and  that  on  a  scale  very  different  from  that 
of  most  Church  histories.  The  subject  was  not  new  to 
him,  but  his  ideas  were  now  beginning  to  take  definite 
shape.  The  breadth  of  the  scheme  which  he  proposed 
to  himself  is  seen  in  the  important  letter  to  Ellerton  of 
1 4th  November- 1 4th  December  1852.  Perhaps  the 
realisation  of  such  a  plan  is  beyond  the  grasp  of  one 


man  ;  perhaps  also  he  was  the  one  man  who  could 
approximately  have  carried  it  out.  Forty  years  later 
the  stores  of  various  knowledge  had  been  accumulated, 
and,  had  he  possessed  greater  readiness  of  expression, 
some  noble  fragment  of  the  great  design  might  have 
been  given  to  the  world. 

By  the  end  of  1852  therefore  it  is  possible  to  dis 
tinguish  two  chief  lines  of  future  study  now  becoming 
clearer  in  his  mind :  the  Text  and  Interpretation  of 
the  New  Testament,  and  Early  Church  History  in  the 
widest  sense.  When  accordingly,  on  becoming  a 
Fellow  of  Trinity,  he  settled  down  to  work  at  Cam 
bridge,  it  was  with  the  definite  conviction  that  a  student's 
life  was  that  for  which  he  was  best  fitted.  To  live, 
however,  altogether  at  Cambridge  was  never  part  of 
his  plan,  nor,  as  will  be  seen,  did  he  regard  active 
parochial  work,  to  which  he  looked  forward  by  and  bye, 
as  incompatible  with  the  pursuit  of  the  above  objects. 
For  the  present  he  was  content  to  remain  at  Trinity, 
reading  and  taking  pupils,  and  was  perhaps  rather  freer 
than  before  to  enter  into  the  varied  intellectual  life  of 
the  University.  The  value  of  this  graduate  period  he 
always  estimated  highly,  for  the  sake  both  of  what  a 
graduate  may  then  best  learn,  and  of  what  he  may 
be  in  his  relations  with  younger  men. 

In  the  October  term  of  1852  he  was  President  of 
the  Union.  Between  the  years  1846  and  1852  he 
appears  to  have  made  twenty-four  speeches  at  Union 
debates  ;  he  defended  the  Crusades,  upheld  the  poetical 
merits  of  Tennyson,  and  slighted  those  of  Byron  ;  ex 
pressed  sympathy  with  the  Continental  *  progressive ' 
movement  of  1 848,  condemned  Palmerston's  policy 
on  the  Greek  question  (1850),  approved  of  the  prin 
ciples  of  Carlyle's  '  Latter-Day  Pamphlets,'  maintained 

VOL.  I  N 


the  superiority  of  the  novelists  of  ( this  generation  to 
those  of  the  last.'  In  questions  of  party  politics  he 
spoke  most  often  on  subjects  connected  with  Convoca 
tion,  the  Irish  Church,  and  colonial  policy. 

It  may  be  of  interest  here  to  collect  Hort's  con 
tributions  (besides  reviews)  to  botanical  publications  ; 
I  am  indebted  for  the  following  list  to  an  obituary 
notice  in  the  Journal  of  Botany  for  February  1893,  by 
Mr.  G.  S.  Boulger,  who  remarks  that  "  forty  years  ago 
Hort  might  have  been  styled  one  of  the  rising  hopes 
of  the  Cambridge  school  of  botanists." 

In  the  second  vol.  of  the  Phytologist  (pp.  1047-9) 
appear  a  *  Notice  of  a  few  Plants  growing  at  Weston- 
super-Mare,'  and  a  '  Note  on  Centaurea  nigra,  var. 
radiata  and  C.  nigrescensl  both  bearing  date  November 
5th,  1847,  when  the  young  undergraduate  was  not  yet 
twenty  ;  and  in  the  third  vol.  (pp.  321-2)  is  a  (Note  on 
Alsine  rubra,  var.  media  Bab./  dated  '  Torquay,  Sept. 
27th,  1848.'  In  the  first  vol.  of  Henfrey's  Botanical 
Gazette  (1849),  pp.  197,  200,  he  has  a  paper  'On 
Viola  sylvatica  and  caninaj  and  in  the  second  vol. 
(1850),  pp.  I,  2,  a  '  Notice  on  Potamogeton  fluitans  Roth 
and  Ulex  Gallii  Planch.' 

In  1851  he  found  time  to  publish,  in  the  third  vol. 
of  the  Botanical  Gazette  (pp.  15-17)  a  note  'On 
Euphorbia  stricta  and  platyphyllal  and  in  the  same 
volume  (pp.  155-7)  appears  a  'Note  on  Athyrium 
filix-femina,  var.  latifolium?  dated  November  I2th, 
1851,  which  was  reprinted  in  the  PUytologist,  vol.  iv. 
pp.  440-2.  To  this  year  also  belongs  his  paper  '  On 
a  supposed  new  Species  of  Rubus*  (Rubus  imbricatus 
Hort),  which  appeared  in  the  Annals  and  Magazine  of 
Natural  History  of  the  Botanical  Society  of  Edinburgh 
(vol.  iv.  pp.  1 1 3-6),  to  which  it  had  been  communi- 

AGE  22 



cated.  In  the  fourth  vol.  of  the  Phytologist  (1852), 
pp.  640-1,  is  a  note  by  him  on  the  'Occurrence  of 
Orobanche  ccerulea  Vill.  and  Aconitum  Napellus  L.  in 
Monmouthshire,'  dated  July  2ist,  1852  ;  and  a  'Note 
on  the  Third  Volume  of  Mr.  H.  C.  Watson's  Cybele 
Britannica^  frankly  corrected  some  blunders  that  had 
found  their  way  into  that  work  from  his  own  list  of 
Weston-super-Mare  plants.  He  appears  in  Topo 
graphical  Botany  as  a  correspondent  of  Watson's  from 
no  less  than  eleven  vice-counties,  viz.  North  Somerset, 
East  and  West  Gloucester,  Monmouth,  Merioneth, 
Carnarvon,  North  Lancashire  and  Westmoreland, 
Cumberland,  Durham,  West  Suffolk,  and  Cambridge. 

His  Cambridge  friend  and  contemporary,  the  Rev. 
W.  W.  Newbould,  used  always  to  speak  of  Hort's 
abandonment  of  botany  in  favour  of  biblical  studies 
in  much  the  same  manner  as  Watson  regretted  that 
Edward  Forbes'  "  attention  had  been  drawn  from 
botany  to  the  more  showy  studies,  in  which  he  became 


CAMBRIDGE,  February  $rd,  1851. 

My  dearest  Mother — I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  if  you  find 
me  brief  and  stupid  to-night,  for  indeed  I  have  good  reason 
for  it,  having  been  to-day  in  at  two  examination  papers  of  four 
hours  each,  which  is  heavy  work.  .  .  . 

I  am  quite  comfortable  in  my  new  rooms,  though  the  floor 
is  still  encumbered  with  books,  as  the  shelves  are  not  all  right 
yet,  and  the  Tripos  has  kept  me  too  busy  to  think  of  much 
else.  I  have  two  windows  looking  north  into  Nevile's  Court, 
and  one  looking  south  into  the  New  Court,  which  is  very  com 
fortable.1  ...  I  am  quite  ashamed  to  let  such  a  letter  go,  but 

1  The  rooms  were  in  Nevile's  Court,  Staircase  C,  first  floor. 


if  you  knew  how  my  ears  are  full  of  'Springs  of  Human 
Action,'  'Things  Allowable,'  'Price,'  'Circulating  Capital,' 
'  Rent  of  Land,'  etc.,  and  how  dismal  and  dismal-making  this 
drizzly  night  is,  you  would  be  indulgent. — Ever,  my  dearest 
mother,  your  affectionate  son,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 


CAMBRIDGE,  February  7^,  1851. 

My  dear  Ellerton — I  really  don't  know  how  long  I  have 
been  silent,  but  I  am  afraid  it  has  been  some  considerable 
fraction  of  a  century.  I  suppose  it  was  first  the  theoretical 
preparation  for  the  Moral  Tripos,  and  then  the  actual  prepara 
tion,  and  finally,  the  Tripos  itself  that  withheld  me.  Whatever 
it  was,  it  was  unpardonable.  As  I  have  mentioned  the  Tripos, 
I  may  as  well  go  on.  It  began  on  Monday,  9-1,  with  a 
good  paper  of  WheweH's,  which  I  did  very  fairly ;  2-6,  Pryme's 
Political  Economy,  of  which  I  thought  myself  lucky  to  do  half, 
as  I  had  spent  (irrespective  of  a  chapter  or  two  in  the  summer) 
just  half  an  hour  upon  it.  Tuesday,  9-12,  Maine,  General 
Jurisprudence, — a  capital  paper,  of  which  I  did  about  half; 
1-4,  a  detestable  mass  of  bad  poetry,  puns,  and  anecdotic 
gossip,  with  a  screed  or  two  of  absurd  law,  called  Laws  of 
England.  Wednesday,  9-2,  History:  Gibbes,  corrected  by 
Sir  J.  Stephen,  whereof  I  did  about  half.  Yesterday,  9-2, 
General  Paper,  nominally  Holden,  but  each  subject  set  by  its 
professor.  I  did  all  the  Moral  Philosophy  very  fully,  about 
half  the  History,  and  two  or  three  scraps  of  the  other  things. 
There  have  been  but  five  of  us  in  :  Mackenzie  and  A.  Wilson 
of  Trinity,  Bruce  of  Jesus,  and  Pooley  of  Christ's.  I  don't 
know  when  the  lists  will  be  out.  I  shall  look  for  them  rather 
anxiously,  as  I  hope  I  have  a  fair  chance  of  a  Whewell  (Moral 
Philosophy)  prize.  I  am  now  going  to  read  for  the  Natural 
Science  Tripos,  which  I  hope  I  shall  be  much  better  prepared 
for ;  it  comes  on  March  3rd.  I  have  plenty  of  work  before 
me,  as  I  mean  to  make  a  desperate  effort  for  my  Fellowship 
this  time,  and  I  have  to  read  lots  for  the  Voluntary,  Justin 
Martyr,  Apol.  I.,  being  the  Patristic  subject.  Likewise  there 


are  the  Siren  voices  of  two  essays  —  the  Hulsean,  on  the 
extinction  of  Paganism  in  connexion  with  the  evidences  of 
Christianity,  and  the  Members'  Prize,  '  Why  the  Reformation 
got  no  further  in  Europe ' ;  both  alluring,  especially  the 
former,  which  I  should  like  to  treat  by  showing  how  all  that 
Julian  and  Proclus,  and  Plotinus  and  Celsus,  etc.,  could  do 
by  piecing  Paganism  with  what  people  nowadays  call  the 
kernel  of  Christianity  was  of  no  avail,  but  only  faith  in  the 
living,  dying,  and  risen  Nazarene. 

Talking  of  essays,  Westcott  is  just  coming  out  with  his 
Norrisian  on  'The  Elements  of  the  Gospel  Harmony.'  I 
have  seen  the  first  sheet  on  Inspiration,  which  is  a  wonderful 
step  in  advance  of  common  orthodox  heresy.  He  has  a  full 
catena  from  the  Ante-Nicene  Fathers  on  the  subject.  Alto 
gether,  I  doubt  not,  it  will  be  a  most  valuable  book. 

February  i  oth. — The  scrap 1  which  I  sent  you  on  Saturday 
will  have  told  you  the  result  of  the  Moral  Examination.  It  is 
a  bore  that  they  have  not  placed  us  alphabetically,  as  they 
seemed  to  promise,  but  certainly  I  do  not  deserve  to  be  higher, 
if  reading  is  any  criterion  of  merit,  and  after  all  it  is  a  first 
class,  so  I  don't  care,  especially  as  I  have  got  what  I  most 
cared  for,  the  Moral  Philosophy  prize,  which  I  shall  value  in 
many  ways ;  it  is  likely  to  get  me  into  the  Master's  good  graces 
for  a  Fellowship,  to  say  nothing  of  ^"15  worth  of  books,  which 
thing  is  not  to  be  despised. 

Now  to  turn  to  your  letter,  I  don't  know  whether  to  feel 
comfort  or  pain  at  your  '  difficulty  of  speaking  to  the  poor  as 
you  ought  to  speak,' — I  mean,  as  regards  myself.  I  always 
fancy,  whenever  I  think  about  the  matter,  that  I  shall  never  be 
able  to  get  out  anything  but  commonplaces.  And,  tho'  it 
is  something  of  a  melancholy  satisfaction  to  find  that  I  am  not 
alone  in  this  respect,  it  is  not  very  favorable  to  the  hope  I 
have  felt  that,  when  the  time  actually  came,  the  difficulty  would 
vanish.  But  of  one  thing  I  am  sure,  that  the  more  we  seek 
to  be  but  God's  spokesmen,  and  not  to  dwell  on  our  own 
thoughts,  the  more  will  our  lips  be  opened.  You  will  remem- 

1  Moral  Sciences  Tripos,  1851.  First  class. — Ds.  Mackenzie,  Trin.  ; 
*  Wilson,  A.,  Trin.  ;  Bruce,  Hon.  T.  C.,  Jesus;  *Hort,  Trin.  (*  Moral 
Philosophy  prizemen.) 


ber  how  Maurice  dwells  on  the  four  Gospels  as  pre-eminently 
setting  forth  the  ministerial  office  even  more  than  the  Chris 
tian  life ;  and  there  is  no  more  perplexing  or  more  valuable 
precept  than  that  to  the  Apostles  to  take  no  thought  what  they 
should  speak,  for  the  Holy  Ghost  should  teach  them  what  they 
should  speak.  Maintain  a  firm,  live  conviction  that  we  have 
the  Word  dwelling  in  us,  the  Word  who  Himself  took  flesh 
and  partook  of  every  form  of  sorrow,  known  or  unknown  to 
us,  and  His  sympathy  will  become  ours,  and  we  shall  be  able 
to  use  the  strength  which  He  won  in  subduing  all  His  enemies 
by  the  word  of  our  mouths. 

Thank  you  much  for  your  note  received  this  day,  Feb 
ruary  1 3th.  I  may  as  well  mention  that  I  got  96  out  of  100 
marks  for  the  Master's  paper.  Holden  and  Gibbes  wanted  to 
place  me  second,  but  the  Master  (very  justly)  contended  that 
the  order  must  be  not  by  merit  but  by  marks.  They  are  all 
enthusiastic  in  our  praise ;  say  we  should  be  thoroughly  First 
Class  in  any  such  examinations,  most  agreeably  surprized 
them,  etc. 

I  have  just  struck  up  a  most  delightful  acquaintance  with 
Lees  of  Christ's,  who  has  been  Kingsley's  pupil  for  some 
months.  But  this  and  heaps  more  that  I  want  to  say  I  really 
must  defer. 


CAMBRIDGE,  February  itfh,  1851. 

.  .  .  Thank  you  all  for  your  congratulations.  There  is  no 
limitation  about  the  prize.  Whewell  sent  for  me  on  Monday 
and  paid  me  the  money ;  he  was  remarkably  gracious  (I  should 
mention  that  this  is  the  first  time  I  have  come  personally  in 
contact  with  him),  and  asked  after  a  Mr.  Fenton  Hort  whom 
he  remembered  very  well ;  he  hoped  that,  if  ever  he  were  in 
Cambridge  again,  he  would  call  at  the  Lodge,  as  he  should 
be  very  glad  to  renew  his  acquaintance ;  he  also  asked  after 
my  uncle.1  I  mean  to  get  five  or  six  volumes  to  bear  on 
their  backs  the  University  Arms,  but  I  shall  find  the  rest  of 
the  money  very  serviceable,  as  I  have  a  very  large  book  bill, 

1  Sir  William  Hort,  Mr.  Fenton  Hort's  elder  brother. 


caused  partly  by  these  very  Triposes ;  that  is  to  say,  reading 
for  them  has  been  the  occasion  of  my  getting  permanently 
good  and  important  books  rather  more  than  usual.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  the  examination  itself ;  independently  of 
the  prize  and  honour,  and  still  more  valuable  objects  of 
various  kinds  consequent  thereupon,  I  have  read  and  learned 
much  valuable  matter,  that  would  otherwise  have  been  lost  or 
acquired  more  loosely.  I  only  regret  that  I  did  not  pursue 
this  advantage  to  anything  like  the  same  extent  that  I  might 
have  done.  Since  I  wrote,  I  have  seen  the  marks  given,  and 
heard  various  particulars,  chiefly  from  Holden  himself,  the 
'additional  examiner.'  They  have  all  taken  every  oppor 
tunity  of  praising  us  all,  as  having  been  fully  up  to  the  First 
Class  mark,  '  so  that  we  should  have  been  no  lower  had  there 
been  a  hundred  competitors '  .  .  .  they  have  dwelt  especially 
on  the  'good  style,'  particularly  of  Mackenzie  and  myself 
(style,  not  so  much  of  composition  as  of  treatment).  .  .  . 
Holden  says  he  does  not  at  all  understand  why  I  was  not 
published  as  first  Whewell's  prizeman.  All  this  sounds  pain 
fully  egotistic,  but  I  know  you  will  be  glad  to  hear  it,  and  I 
do  not  see  how  otherwise  you  can  know  of  it.  I  will  send 
to-morrow  a  Cambridge  Chronicle,  if  they  print  the  papers  in  it. 
I  am  now  at  work  for  the  Natural  Sciences  Tripos,  the 
examination  for  which  begins  on  Monday  fortnight.  I  am  at 
present  at  Structural  and  Physiological  Botany,  which  (reading 
as  I  do  in  the  highest  books)  is  anything  but  child's  play,  and 
is  a  region  nearly  new  to  me. 

Many  thanks  to  Kate  for  her  letter,  which  I  hope  to  answer 
in  two  or  three  days.  Perhaps  she  will  be  good  enough  to 
dry  a  snowdrop  for  me,  bulb  and  all,  if  possible ;  it  will  soon 
flatten  down.  Do  they  grow  generally,  or  only  near  the 
gardens  and  houses  ?  I  do  not  see  why  they  should  not  be 
really  wild  in  that  part  of  England.  Babington  has  no  doubt 
they  are  sometimes  really  indigenous.  I  wish  I  could  see 
them.  Well,  I  must  close ;  love  without  end  to  you  all. — Ever 
your  affectionate  son,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 

The  occasion  of  the  following  letter  was  the  publica 
tion  by  Kingsley  of  some  remarks  on  the  state  of  the 


universities,  the  nature  of  which  will  be  apparent  from 
Hort's  criticisms  thereon. 

TO    THE    REV.    C.    KlNGSLEY 

CAMBRIDGE,  February  2$th,  1851. 

My  dear  Mr.  Kingsley — I  have  been  so  much  delighted 
this  afternoon  by  the  receipt  of  your  most  generous  letter,  that 
I  cannot  rest  till  I  have  thanked  you  very  heartily  for  it.  ... 
Of  the  state  of  London  I  can  know  nothing.  Of  that  of 
Oxford  I  thought  some  little  while  ago  much  as  you  do  now, 
except  that  I  was  more  hopeful  of  future  well-being  by  the 
possibility  of  a  sound  direction  being  given  to  activities  and 
energies  which  I  supposed  to  be  really  working,  though  in  a 
wild  and  confused  way.  But  my  somewhat  vague  impressions 
were  changed  by  a  very  interesting  conversation  in  (I  think) 
October  last  (but  possibly  it  was  May)  with  Mr.  Maurice  (to 
whom  we  both,  I  believe,  owe  under  God  nearly  all  the 
better  part  of  our  being,  and  not  least  the  desire,  and  in  part 
the  power,  of  calling  no  man  our  master,  but  learning  the 
truth  from  the  strangest  and  most  dissimilar  quarters).  He 
had  been  staying  with  Arthur  Stanley  at  Oxford,  and  seemed 
very  desponding  about  the  state  of  matters  there ;  all,  he  said, 
was  stagnant,  and  lifeless,  and  hopeless ;  the  only  apparent 
feeling  was  a  vague  but  bitter  one  of  distrust  and  dislike  of 
the  authorities  as  idle  pedants  on  the  part  of  the  younger 
men.  I  asked  if  there  were  no  outwardly  infidel  movement, 
which  gave  promise  of  ending  in  a  real  and  active  faith,  and 
mentioned  in  illustration  Mr.  Clough's  poems.  'No,'  he 
thought  not ;  there  might  perhaps  be  some  infidelity,  but  if 
there  were,  it  was  quite  stagnant  (that  word,  or  one  like  it,  was 
what  he  dwelt  mostly  on)  and  hopeless.  He  then  asked  me 
about  Cambridge.  I  could  not  give  a  more  lively  account, 
but  observed  that  at  least  we  had  one  great  blessing,  in  being 
free  from  party  spirit  (a  blessing  which  I  had  good  reason  to 
appreciate,  having  been  maddened  by  a  residence  of  some 
years  in  the  midst  of  Cheltenham) ;  he  much  doubted  this 
being  a  healthy  sign  among  young  men.  I  spoke  of  the 


kindred  mischief  of  via-mediaism  and  a  cowardly  shrinking 
from  'extremes'  merely  because  they  are  extremes;  he 
assented,  and  lamented  that  this  Eclecticism  was  equally 
prevalent  at  Oxford.  I  mention  this  conversation  in  order  to 
show  you  how  I  came  to  regard  stagnation  as  the  leading 
characteristic  of  both  Universities ;  only  I  have  seldom  been 
able  to  trace  discontent  against  superiors  at  Cambridge.  Now 
certainly  I  can  find  in  your  letters  statements  agreeable  to 

most  of  those  contained  in  my  letter    to  ;    but  I  still 

think  that  the  total  impression  conveyed  by  your  words  is  that 
our  curse  is  misdirected  activity.  In  your  last  letter  to  the 
Spectator  I  think  you  partly  meet  my  statement  by  attributing 
the  deadness  to  the  mass  of  the  University,  and  the  activity 
to  its  leading  intellects, — at  least  so  I  understand  you ;  but  it 
appears  to  me  that  all  alike  suffer  from  the  general  apathy, 
though  it  shows  itself  in  very  different  forms.  I  cannot  easily 

guess  what  description has  given  you  of  the  better  men 

among  us.  That  there  is  a  vast  deal  of  good,  I  thankfully 
acknowledge ;  it  is  perpetually  springing  up  where  I  have 
least  expected  it,  and  putting  to  rebuke  my  uncharitable 
thoughts ;  yet  since  last  May  I  have  not  had  one  friend  in 
residence  to  whom  I  could  open  myself  freely  and  unreservedly 
without  feeling  that  there  was  something  cold  and  dark 
between  us,  which  kept  us  up  to  a  certain  point  apart ;  and 

yet  I  know  that  I  am  not  suspicious.     ,  I  think,  might 

become  an  exception,  but  I  have  not  known  him  at  all  till  a 
few  days  ago.  Of  course  it  would  be  absurd  in  the  extreme 
for  me  to  assume  that  there  are  no  noble  minds  of  the  highest 
class — noble  especially  as  having  struggled  and  now  become 
victorious — with  which  I  am  unacquainted ;  still  I  think  I  can 
say  that  from  various  concurrent  causes  I  have  at  least  as 
good  means  of  discovering  such  minds,  in  Trinity  at  least, 
as  any  one  here.  There  is  one  circumstance  in  the  present 
state  of  Trinity,  and  probably  in  a  less  degree  of  the  whole 
University,  which  not  only  makes  such  discovery  very  difficult, 
but  actually  checks  and  confines  the  growth  of  the  very  highest 
minds ;  I  mean  the  amount  of  respectable  cultivation  existing 
in  probably  nearly  half  our  number  ;  and  yet  this  is  so  valuable 
an  advance  upon  previous  inanity  and  brutality,  that  no  one  can 


wish  for  its  removal.  Modern  literature  is  extensively  read  in 
a  way  that,  though  neither  earnest  nor  profound,  is  still  rather 
humanizing  and  genial  than  otherwise.  A  '  reading  man '  is 
distinguished  not  from  one  who  does  not  read,  but  from  one 
who  does  not  read  University  subjects  enough  to  obtain 
moderately  high  honours;  and  the  two  kinds  of  reading 
usually  progress  together ;  so  that,  though  there  may  be  a  few 
really  well-read  men  who  do  not  pursue  the  studies  of  the 
place,  still  on  the  whole  the  best  scholars  and  mathematicians 
in  Trinity  (in  any  year)  are,  with  very  few  exceptions,  the  best 
acquainted  with  modern  literature.  And  theology  is  usually 
by  no  means  excluded  from  their  attention,  and  that  not  in  a 
merely  sectarian  way  ;  so  that  stolid,  pharisaical  orthodoxy 
is  all  but  unknown  among  undergraduates,  bachelors,  and 
younger  masters,  except  in  a  small  and  inferior  class.  This  is 
of  course  a  partial  good,  but  it  is  accompanied  by  a  fatal  evil 
of  a  peculiar  kind.  Enough  easy  and  comfortable  exercise  is 
given  to  men's  conscience  and  faculties  to  remove  the  restless 
ennui  of  perfect  idleness,  and  still  more  the  impatience  and 
rebelliousness  which  mere  restraint  and  '  obscurantism ' 
would  produce.  Religious  difficulties  are  not  often,  I  think, 
stifled,  but  rather  met  with  half  lazy  solutions,  not  absolutely 
untrue,  but  weak  and  imperfect.  Then  comes  the  friendly 
intercourse  which  prevails  between  men  of  all  opinions, 
rubbing  off  many  asperities,  but  rubbing  off  also,  alas  !  much 
vigour  and  distinctness ;  truth  is  seen  not  to  be  the  exclusive 
possession  of  any  one  party,  and  every  question  is  found  to 
have  two  sides.  The  total  result  is  not  ignorance  of  the 
questions  which  are  being  asked  all  around,  but  universal 
trimming;  the  doubts,  which,  if  treated  roughly,  must  before 
long  have  imperiously  claimed  to  be  heard,  and  ultimately 
have  led  their  victims  into  utter  scepticism  or  Romanism,  or 
else  to  perfect  faith,  because  nothing  less  would  have  satisfied 
them,  are  judiciously  humoured  and  coaxed  away.  I  do  not 
want  to  deny  the  good  that  must  be  mixed  up  with  all  this 
specious  evil ;  I  am  sure  that  God  is  daily  leading  many  into 
His  truth  by  ways  of  His  own  that  I  know  not ;  and  it  cannot 
be  but  that  much  is  really  learnt  from  the  books  which  are 
the  main  instruments  of  the  mischief.  Maurice's  more  popular 


writings  are  among  the  most  common,  though  I  seldom  see  or 
hear  of  his  more  profound  ones,  and  none  are  really  studied. 
But  the  disheartening  thing  is  to  see  so  few  symptoms  of  any 
one  knowing  what  it  is  to  be  ever  craving  and  unsatisfied  till 
one  has  reached  the  very  ground  and  bottom  of  a  question, 
and  to  care  little  for  consequences  in  the  pursuit.  What  is  to 
be  the  end  of  these  things,  it  is  not  easy  to  predict ;  you 
think  it  will  be  a  violent  revulsion  "  in  the  direction  of 
Strauss,  Emerson,  and  [Francis]  Newman."  It  may  be  so, — 
especially  in  the  direction  of  Newman ;  for  the  degree  of 
intelligence  and  cultivation  which  pervades  our  orthodox  (if 
so  it  can  be  called !)  Epicurism  is  likely,  I  think,  to  make 
our  infidelity  also  Epicurean  ;  and  more  luxurious,  complacent 
hands-in-the-breeches-pocket  infidelity  than  prevails  in  the 
little  of  Newman's  writings  that  I  have  read,  I  cannot  imagine. 
I  could  greedily  devour  The  Nemesis  of  Faith  every  week, 
but  it  is  an  irksome  labour  to  me  to  get  through  one  chapter 
of  The  Soul.  But  surely  the  evil  seed  is  sown  in  many 
more  effective  ways  than  by  these  books,  especially  such  a 
cold  laborious  criticism  as  I  take  the  Leben  Jesu  to  be.  If  the 
root  of  all  unbelief  be,  as  the  Bible  teaches  us,  in  our  selfish 
and  cowardly  hearts,  the  devil  will  never  want  innumerable 
direct  means  to  plant  it  where  it  may  grow  most  rank.  I  can 
hardly  think  that  the  infidelity  of  even  educated  Englishmen 
will  be  often  German  in  its  character ;  nay,  there  seem  to 
be  signs  that  not  theology,  but  questions  concerning  social 
relations,  and,  above  all,  that  which  daily  more  strongly 
appears  to  me  to  lie  at  the  root  of  all  social  problems,  the 
relation  of  the  sexes,  will  be  the  prominent  subjects  of 
unbelief.  But  indeed,  if  I  seemed  to  you  to  doubt  your 
gloomy  prophecies  of  a  coming  time  of  shattered  faith, 
it  was  merely  from  my  bitter  sense  of  our  present  awful 
quiescence,  of  those  "evils  that,"  as  Ruskin  says,  "vex  less 
and  mortify  more,  that  suck  the  blood  though  they  do  not 
shed  it,  and  ossify  the  heart  though  they  do  not  torture 
it."  But  when  one  thinks  what  tremendous  responsibilities 
rest  on  those  whose  feet  God  has  in  any  wise  set  upon 
the  living  Rock,  it  is  yet  more  horrible  to  feel  by  daily 
experience  how  every  vain  or  unkind  word  and  every  un- 


clean  thought  brings  back  doubts  which  seemed  vanquished 
for  ever. 

I  must  say  a  word  or  two  on  other  points  of  your  letters. 
It  is  with  pain  I  allude  to  our  'chapel-keeping,'  knowing 
how  constantly  I  am  thinking,  speaking,  and  acting  as  if 
it  were  the  merest  disciplinary  form.  But  if  you  were  to 
attend  our  service  a  few  times,  especially  in  the  morning  and 
at  the  more  orderly  end  of  the  chapel,  I  think  you  would  find 
it  far  less  '  soul-less  '  than  you  suppose ;  certainly  in  no  other 
congregation  have  I  had  at  all  an  equal  sense  of  united  wor 
ship.  And  I  am  sure  that,  far  as  the  College  system  is  from 
what  it  ought  to  be,  its  effects  are  still  up  to  a  certain  point 
truly  healthy  and  beneficial;  and  that  Mr.  Sewell's  plan  of 
professors  in  provincial  towns,  however  useful  for  disseminating 
information,  would  be  totally  wanting  in  that  which  makes 
Oxford  and  Cambridge  to  be  even  now,  with  all  their  short 
comings,  almost  the  only  places  of  education  in  England; 
and  surely  the  professor's  office  is  rather  to  guide  students  in 
their  studies  than  to  teach.  You  allow  that  meddling  with 
machinery  is  ineffectual  to  infuse  life ;  but  still  you  look  to 
the  Commission  to  effect  that  object  by  compelling  the  Uni 
versities  to  reform  themselves.  But  how  ?  '  Reforming 
themselves'  in  ordinary  parlance  means  a  change  of  machinery 
ab  intra  instead  of  ab  extra.  But  you  can  hardly  mean  this 
only.  You  must  be  thinking  of  vital  spiritual  reform,  yet  that 
is  not  definite  enough  to  be  a  subject  of  outward  compulsion ; 
and  as  for  the  moral  compulsion  of  the  public,  made  wise  by 
the  blue-books,  will  the  public  really  understand  the  evils  and 
their  remedies  ?  Do  you  think  that  the  state  of  feeling  in 
any  class  is  so  much  higher  than  it  is  here  that  our  fathers 
generally  will  scent  out  the  true  poison  ?  Are  they  not  yet  more 
infected  by  it  ?  Will  they  not  rather  rejoice  to  find  that  their 
sons  are  studiously  reading  their  Latin  and  Greek  and  Mathe 
matics,  with  literature  and  the  newspapers  and  the  sciences  of 
the  new  Triposes  superadded,  and  just  minding  their  own 
bread  and  butter  like  practical,  common -sense  Englishmen, 
and  pleasing  their  tutors,  without  troubling  their  heads  about 
wild,  dangerous  notions  in  morals,  theology,  or  politics?  I 
am  not  speaking  from  personal  experience,  or  at  least  very 

AGE  22 


slightly;  but  I  think  the  state  of  society  generally  bears  out 
my  statement.  And  again,  supposing  the  compulsion  existing, 
if  the  University  authorities  have  not  life,  how  can  they  bring 
it  into  operation  ?  And  yet  how  will  the  public  be  able  to  get 
living  men  to  fill  their  places  ?  The  best  sign  I  have  seen  yet 
is  a  strong  and  rapidly  increasing  tendency  among  the  younger 
masters  to  make  Honours  far  less  the  object  of  the  University 
System  than  at  present ;  such  a  spirit  can  hardly  fail  to  produce 
other  good  fruits.  There  is  reason  to  hope  that  much  will  be 
done  in  this  direction  by  the  Syndicate  now  employed  to  revise 
the  University  Statutes,  which  comprises  most  of  the  best  and 
most  thoughtful  men  in  the  University.  And  the  new  Regius 
Professor  of  Divinity  announced  yesterday  approaching  changes 
in  the  now  troublesome  yet  almost  useless  Voluntary  Theo 
logical  Examination.  Without  such  divisions  as  would  intro 
duce  rivalry,  we  are  to  be  distinguished  (I  suppose  by  two 
alphabetical  classes)  into  those  who  have  really  prepared  them 
selves  for  Holy  Orders,  and  those  who  go  in  as  a  matter  of 

I  must  hasten  to  conclude  this  long  letter.  I  am  sure  you 
hate  receiving  compliments  as  much  as  I  hate  paying  them. 
But  you  must  allow  me  for  this  once  the  pleasure  of  telling  you 
how  much  love — even  more  than  admiration — I  owe  you.  I 
cannot  adequately  thank  you  for  all  I  have  learnt  from  many 
of  your  writings,  especially  from  Yeast.  But  I  think  of  you 
rather  as  one  that  had  felt  and  was  feeling  what  it  contains, 
as  a  flesh-and-blood  man  than  as  an  author.  And  so,  without 
seeing  you,  I  have  come  to  love  you  as  a  very  dear  friend, 
even  when  you  sometimes  made  me  angry  with  you. — I  know 
you  will  excuse  the  freedom  with  which  I  write. — And  now  I 
have  to  thank  you  for  the  offer  of  your  friendship  made  on 
the  strength  of  a  letter  in  which  I  misrepresent  and  abuse  you. 
You  may  well  believe  how  thankfully  I  accept  it.  But  I  give 
you  warning  you  will  find  me  a  troublesome  friend.  I  have 
read  your  writings  too  carefully  not  to  know  how  completely 
we  differ  on  some  important  points.  In  various  ways  I  shall 
be  perpetually  exasperating  you.  I  am  hampered  and  logged 
every  way  with  vanity  and  selfishness,  and  very  impatient  of 


corrective  measures;  but  if  you  have  any  regard  for  me, 
you  will  knock  them  out  of  me  any  way  you  think  best,  with 
out  mercy ;  and  if  I  wince  and  turn  fractious,  you  must  not 
mind.  Only  do  not  despair  of  me,  or  cast  me  off. — Yours 
most  truly,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 


CAMBRIDGE,  March  2nd,  1851. 

.  .  .  Poor  old  Duke !  he  has  enough  on  his  hands  just 
now,  as  bona  fide  the  Queen's  Privy  Councillor.  It  is  some 
thing  to  feel,  even  for  a  week,  that  we  are  a  kingdom  again, 
and  not  a  cabinet-dom !  The  Queen  seems  to  have  been 
acting  capitally. 

I  do  not,  from  your  description,  at  all  doubt  the  wildness 
of  the  snowdrops ;  still  less  of  the  daffodils,  which  occur,  I 
believe,  in  many  of  the  really  native  woods  of  the  west  of 
England.  As  I  have  a  conscience,  I  won't  ask  Kate  to  dry 
one.  They  grow  in  a  wood  at  Whit  well,  three  miles  from 
Cambridge,  but  there  escaped  a  century  ago  from  a  garden. 
Nothing  is  out  with  us  yet  but  a  few  daisies  and  a  bilious, 
disgruntled  -  looking  dandelion  or  two.  If  it  will  be  any 
pleasure  to  you  to  collect  the  mosses,  pray  do ;  you  need  not 
be  afraid  of  my  despising  them.  Perhaps  I  have  seemed  not 
to  pursue  them  very  warmly.  This  is  chiefly  because  I  do 
not  want  to  get  any  book  (no  thoroughly  good  one  exists) 
which  will  be  superseded  as  soon  as  Mr.  Wilson's  appears; 
but,  if  you  like,  we  will  try  what  we  can  do  with  Hooker's  old 
descriptions,  which  are  respectable,  but  have  no  plates. 


Saturday  Night  [March  Wi\>  1851. 

My  dearest  Mother — I  have  not  much  to  add  to  the 
above.1  In  Physiology  I  was  very  high — far  the  first.  In 

1  Viz.  the  class  list  of  the  Natural  Sciences  Tripos,  in  which  Hort  was 
placed  second  in  the  first  class  (Liveing  being  first),  with  the  note,  '  Dis 
tinguished  in  Physiology  and  Botany.' 


Botany  I  did  also  very  well,  and  was  quite  first.  In  Chemistry 
and  Mineralogy  of  course  I  got  very  little.  Geology  seems 
to  have  been  tolerably  done  by  all,  brilliantly  by  none.  If 
the  paper  had  been  a  quarter  of  the  length,  it  would  have  been 
more  satisfactory  to  all  parties.  Fuller  says  Sedgwick  boasted 
of  having  made  it  a  *  very  complete '  paper,  and  got  all 
geology  into  it,  to  be  written  out  in  four  hours !  We  all  (i.e. 
all  the  ist  class)  did  very  well  in  the  general  paper.  I  was 
glad  to  find  that  Fuller  thinks  two  subjects  as  much  as  any 
one  can  manage. 

I  have  had  a  talk  with  Babington.  He  recommends  what 
I  thought  of,  viz.  Lindley's  Ladies'  Botany,  Bonn's  edition  in 
1 2  mo  (mind  this).  He  knows  of  no  book  short  of  a  full 
systematic  one  which  would  be  of  use  to  find  out  plants' 
names  by,  but  this  seems  easy  and  nicely  done  ;  and  Lindley's 
name  is  enough  for  its  scientific  excellence.  It  takes  a  hedge 
or  common  garden  flower  (such  as  a  Buttercup,  Poppy,  or 
Strawberry)  in  each  of  the  principal  Natural  Orders  by  their 
English  as  well  as  their  Latin  names,  and,  as  it  were,  pulls  it 
to  pieces  before  you,  explaining  the  parts  in  a  familiar  way, 
not  by  getting  rid  of  the  science,  but  by  putting  it  in  an  easy 
and  English  form  ;  not  telling  you  how  to  put  plants  in  the 
shelves  and  compartments  of  any  system  invented  by  learned 
men,  but  helping  you  to  see  for  yourself  how  they  are  actually 
related  to  each  other  in  the  unchangeable  order  of  nature. 
Now  this,  it  seems  to  me,  is  of  all  things  the  most  delightful 
to  a  child.  It  will  soon  tire  of  the  mechanical  process  of 
counting  stamens,  but  will  always  feel  a  burst  of  pleasure  at 
catching  a  glimpse  of  a  fresh  family  likeness — even  among 
plants.  Some  sage  people  will  tell  you  that  this  is  putting 
mysterious  fancies  into  a  child's  head,  and  mischievously  keep 
ing  it  from  the  influence  of  'plain  common-sense.'  But  I 
have  yet  to  learn  that  it  is  a  good  thing  for  any  one,  whether 
child  or  grown-up,  to  despise  and  cast  off  mysteries.  .  .  . 
I  can  assure  you  I  do  not  forget  how  very  much  I  owe  both 
to  you  and  to  grandmamma,  whether  in  leading  me  to  love 
plants  or  in  anything  else.  I  do  not  grudge  you  any  amount 
of  '  the  credit.'  If  I  have  ever  seemed  to  do  anything  of  the 
kind,  you  must  not  judge  it  too  harshly.  Doubtless  I  have 


sometimes  done  so,  for  what  thoughts  will  not  a  hard  pride 
suggest?  but  not  habitually,  nor  deliberately,  nor,  I  would 
hope,  in  my  truer  self.  You  must  not  measure  me  by  what  I 
say,  or  do  not  say ;  but  I  know  you  do  not. 

To  MR.  C.   H.  CHAMBERS 

CAMBRIDGE,  March  8/7?,  1851. 

I  am  afraid  you  and  I  should  not  agree  about  the  Papal 
affair,  unless  the  crisis,  as  they  call  it,  in  which  our  precious 
Ministers  got  themselves  a  few  days  ago  have  changed  your 
views,  as  it  seems  to  be  doing  those  of  some  people.  I 
cannot  see  what  right  we  have  to  molest  the  Romanist 
bishops  for  taking  what  titles  they  please.  Of  course  it  is 
a  bore,  but  so  are  many  other  things.  There  are  no  new 
pretensions  made ;  the  Romanists  have  always  claimed,  as 
we  do,  the  allegiance  of  the  whole  nation,  and  not  their  own 
adherents  only.  They  would  have  been  monstrously  incon 
sistent  if  they  had  not,  while  they  claimed  to  be  a  Church  and 
not  a  sect.  The  real  insult  and  grievance,  if  insult  and 
grievance  there  be,  is  the  existence  of  such  a  body  as  the 
Romish  Communion  in  England ;  but  the  only  way  I  see  of 
redressing  it  is  to  fry  every  Jack  man  of  them  at  Smithfield,  or 
— let  them  alone.  However,  'the  Provisional  Government' 
cannot  last,  and  I  suspect  that  Anti-Aggression  Bills  will  fall 
when  falls  the  Complete  Letter-writer. 


CAMBRIDGE,  March  i^th,  1851. 

.  .  .  The  glass  house l  is  certainly  a  wonderful  affair, 
though,  from  its  extreme  lowness,  you  do  not  take  in  its  size, 
except  by  running  your  eye  along  the  infinity  of  compartments. 
One  wonders  where  all  the  glass  could  come  from.  I  felt  a 
sort  of  impulsive  wish  to  put  on  a  good  strong  glove  and 
scrunch  the  whole  affair  with  a  single  elephantine  pat.  It 

1  The  Exhibition  building. 


looks  so  unsubstantial,  and  so  like  an  edifice  of  spun  sugar, 
that  it  seems  only  made  to  be  scrunched.  .  .  . 

If  you  can  find  the  true  Dog  Violet,  which  has  a  bluer  flower 
with  a  bright  yellow  spur,  I  shall  be  pleased,  but  it  is  not 
worth  much  search.  It  is  most  likely  to  grow  at  the  edges  of 
the  meadows  by  the  banks  of  the  Wye,  between  Redbrook  and 
Monmouth.  There  will  probably  soon  be  a  blaze  of  Marsh 
Marygolds  all  along  the  river.  One  other  beautiful  violet  you 
are  pretty  sure  to  see  wherever  there  is  limestone,  that  is  on 
most  of  the  higher  ground,  including  that  part  of  the  tramway, 
but  not  in  the  sandy  hollows.  Like  the  sweet  violet,  it  has 
flowers  springing  directly  from  the  root  without  any  apparent 
stem,  but  they  are  bluer  and  scentless.  Their  spurs  are  slightly 
hooked  instead  of  straight,  and  the  hairs  on  the  leafstalks  are 
spreading  instead  of  curving  downwards ;  it  is  the  Hairy 
Violet.  I  have  seen  it  in  magnificent  masses  of  blue  on 
railway  embankments  near  Cheltenham. 


CAMBRIDGE,  March  igth,  1851. 
...  I  am  just  now  doing  that  same  (revelling  in  enjoy 
ment)  over  Hartley  Coleridge.  Derwent  has  done  him 
honestly  and  lovingly,  but  too  clerically,  and  given  too  few  of 
his  letters, — about  the  most  thoroughly  delightful  I  ever  read. 
.  .  .  Two  volumes  of  Essays  and  Marginalia  are  to  follow,  and  a 
reprint  of  the  Northern  Worthies.  The  memoirs  and  letters 
show  indirectly  how  cruelly  S.  T.  C.  has  been  called  an  un 
natural  father. 


NEWLAND,  Good  Friday  [April  i8t/i],  1851. 

I  called  on  Furnival  (in  town)  and  had  a  long  and  inter 
esting  chat ;  he  told  me  that  Lloyd  Jones  was  going  to  lecture 
at  8  at  Charlotte  Street,  where  many  Promoters  and  possibly 
Maurice  might  be.  I  went  and  saw  all,  Maurice  included 
(who  looked  very  ill),  but  of  course  could  get  no  conversation, 

VOL.  I  O 


and  had  to  leave  almost  immediately ;  Kingsley  unluckily  was 
not  there.  I  am  writing  to  Blunt  to  Jerusalem,  as  the  Syrian 
Mail  is  closed  on  the  2oth. 

Westcott's  excellent,  though  not  faultless,  book  on  the 
Gospels  is  out  (and  with  me).  I  have  written  a  Review  of  it, 
which  Macmillan  is  going  to  get  into  the  Guardian.  Hardwick 
has  just  published  what  seems  a  good  History  of  the  Articles ; 
Westcott  likes  it  much,  and  says  he  brings  out  well  their 
Lutheran  and  plusquam  Lutheran  character  against  the 
Calvinistic  bodies,  especially  on  Justification.  At  his  advice  I 
have  been  getting  a  whole  heap  of  the  Symbolical  books  of 
all  the  Churches,  real  and  so  called,  and  am  going  to  read 
Moehler's  Symbolik  and  Guericke's  (Lutheran  and  anti-Prussian) 
Allgemeine  Symbolik,  both  of  which  he  likes  exceedingly. 

I  am  sadly  afraid  poor  Manning  is  gone l  at  last,  and  of 
course  numbers  will  follow. 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  i$tk,  1851. 

.  .  .  Vol.  i.  of  Sir  F.  Palgrave's  History  of  Normandy  and 
England  is  out,  and  seems  very  delightful,  and  a  noble  defence 
of  the  Middle  Ages. 

says  he  is  so  bewildered  about  Socialism  he  scarcely 

dares  think  of  it,  and  is  proportionately  truculent  and  dogmatic 
if  I  hint  disparagement.  He  says  the  Guardian  is  thoroughly 
Romish  (which  is  almost  entirely  false),  yet  the  other  day, 
talking  of  Newman,  Manning,  etc.,  he  said  they  evidently 
saw  that  the  great  movement  of  the  day  is  the  ( Neo-catholic  ' 
(i.e.  chiefly  Oratorian)  movement,  and  that  more  good  could 
be  done  by  working  in  it  than<(in  any  other,  and  that  he  was 
by  no  means  sure  they  were  not  right.  I  exclaimed  indignantly 
against  joining  oneself  to  a  Lie,  merely  because  it  promised  to 
do  most  good ;  but  he  only  jeered  at  me,  and  asked  how  we 
were  to  know  what  is  true  except  by  its  consequence  of  doing 
good.  Truly  a  curious  symptom  of  the  approaching  union  of 
Romanism  and  Communism,  which  I  have  been  some  time 

1  Viz.  over  to  Rome. 



June  2.Qth,  1851. 

I  am  anxious  to  see  the  Pre-Raphaelites,  but  expect 
to  be  much  annoyed.  Ruskin's  second  letter  was  a  remark 
able  one ;  but  the  point  for  which  he  praises  them,  and  which 
is  the  most  characteristic  thing  in  Modern  Painter -s,  is  just 
what  has  been  the  burden  of  my  song  for  six  or  seven  years, 
viz.  that  truth  and  not  falsehood  is  the  subject  of  art,  I 
suppose  he  means  only  to  consider  them  as  clumsy  but 
promising  infants.  I  have  just  finisht  all  that  is  out  of  the 
Stones  of  Venice.  It  is,  all  but  the  first  and  last  chapters,  a 
technical  account  of  the  necessary  elements,  constructive  and 
decorative,  of  all  possible  architecture.  Venice  is  to  come  in 
vol.  ii.  Vol.  i.  is  full  of  most  valuable,  but  what  many  would 
call  dry  matter ;  it  is  not  often  eloquent,  and  frequently  very 
perverse,  but  on  the  whole  I  read  it  with  great  delight.  The 
fag  end  of  a  note  on  the  Crystal  Palace  is  excellent ;  he  calls 
it  good  as  a  piece  of  human  work  and  industry,  worthless  as 
architecture,  as  being  cast,  and  therefore  bearing  no  impress 
of  human  hearts  and  heart-directed  hands.  What  a  marvellous 
tearful  power  Maurice's  tales  have  !  T.  Bradfoot l  moves  me 
almost  fearfully ;  every  line  is  rich  too  in  practical  wisdom. 

Do   have   some  patience  with ,  in  spite  of  all   his 

absurdities ;  an  Oxford  '  Protestant '  and  clever  man,  who 
has  just  found  his  way  into  something  like  Catholic  views,  is 
likely  to  caper  away  with  some  strange  antics. 

Not  very  long  after  my  last  letter  I  wrote  to  Maurice, 
giving  him  my  crude]  impressions  of  the  Education  question, 
and  asking  his  advice,  being  much  puzzled  by  his  recent 
effusions  in  the  Christian  Socialist.  He  wrote  me  a  strange 
passionate  reply,  which  I  took  for  a  rebuke ;  you  shall  see  it 
some  time.  .  .  . 

I  wrote  a  long  and  rather  warm  reply,  which  he  answered 
like  himself,  disclaiming  any  wish  to  censure  what  I  had  said, 

1   The  Experiences  of  Thomas  Bradfoot,  Schoolmaster,  in  the  Christian 
Socialist,  1851,  beginning  26th  April. 


but  saying  that  he  'was  merely  vindicating  his  conduct  in  now 
deserting  the  'unsatisfactory  go-between'  which  he  had 
formerly  (not  very  warmly)  supported.  He  also  says  a  little 
about  Socialism,  but  not  to  the  point ;  and  recommends  to 
me  Kingsley's  lecture  on  agriculture,  which  (with  one  or  two 
exceptions)  I  liked  thoroughly.  Meanwhile  I  had  (don't  open 
your  eyes  too  wide !)  been  asked  to  join  the  '  Apostles ' ;  I 
declined,  but  after  hearing  a  good  deal  which  shook  me, 
begged  time  to  consider.  Meanwhile  I  wrote  to  Maurice  for 
impartial  counsel,  telling  my  objection,  and  his  second  letter 
contained  a  P.S.  which  left  me  no  alternative.  He  said  he 
'  could  not  advise  me  impartially.'  His  '  connection  with 
them  had  moulded  his  character  and  determined  the  whole 
course  of  his  life ' ;  he  '  owed  them  more  than  he  could 
express  in  any  words ;  was  aware  of  the  tendency  to  self- 
conceit  and  trifling  which  I  spoke  of;  could  not  but  desire 
fervently  that  it  should  be  counteracted  by  the  influence  and 
co-operation  of  earnest  men ;  'twas  not  possible  therefore  for 
him  to  advise  me  to  stand  aloof  from  them ;  believed  there 
must  be  evil  attaching  to  every  exclusive  society ;  the  counter 
acting  good  in  this  he  had  found  very  great.'  Could  there 
be  a  more  beautiful  or  delicate  recommendation  ?  So  I 
joined,  and  attended  one  semi-meeting,  but  must  tell  you 
more  when  I  know  more.  I  had  written  to  Kingsley  a  few 
days  before,  but,  without  acknowledging  it,  he  wrote  me  a 
very  kind  note  to  ask  me  to  read  Maurice's  letter  in  the 
Christian  Socialist  on  his  most  painful  fight  with  the  Guardian, 
and  to  offer  to  dry  plants  for  me  in  Germany,  whither  he  is 
going  with  his  father  and  mother.  On  Wednesday  afternoon 
I  left  Cambridge  and  then  went  down  to  Blackwall,  and  there 
had  a  most  pleasant  (annual)  dinner  with  the  '  Apostles '  old 
and  new.  Doune  of  Bury  was  President,  and  I,  as  junior 
member,  Vice  -  President.  Maurice,  Alford,  Thompson,  F. 
Lushington,  T.  Taylor,  James  Spedding,  Blakesley,  Venables, 
etc.  etc.,  were  there;  Monckton  Milnes  and  Trench  were 
unable  to  come.  Maurice  made  a  beautiful  speech.  We 
drove  back  to  Farringdon  Street  together  on  the  box  of  the 
Bus,  and  thence  walked  together  as  far  as  Holborn.  In  the 
morning  I  got  (late)  to  Lincoln's  Inn  Chapel,  and  walked  up 

AGE  23 



with  him  to  Queen  Square,  but  he  was  engaged  out  to 
breakfast.  We  talked  partly  of  Scotch  Church  matters,  but 
chiefly  about  F.  Robertson  of  Brighton,  who  has  happily  got 
acquainted  with  him.  He  was  as  kind  as  possible.  At  noon 
I  started  for  Bath,  and  here  I  am  till  Wednesday  or  Thursday, 
when  we  all  move  to  town  for  a  week  to  see  the  Exhibition,  etc. 



of  God.  Fear  generally,  we  were  told,  was  the  cause  of  most 
good  things,  of  prudence  in  marriage,  for  instance,  etc.  etc. 
One  main  instance  was  fear  when  we  hear  a  great  noise  in 
the  night,  from  which  we  might  understand  what  is  meant  by 
the  fear  of  God.  This  morning  I  saw  the  Water-Colours,  which 
have  some  noble  Copley  Fieldings,  and  the  Royal  Academy, 
which  is  very  poor,  one  or  two  passable  Stanfields,  a  capital 
'Titania  and  Bottom'  of  Landseer's,  and  the  usual  Danbys, 
Lees,  and  Creswicks.  I  can't  make  up  my  mind  about  the 
Pre-Raphaelites ;  they  are  very  gaudy  and  precious  ugly,  but 
the  faces  are  more  like  living  human  faces  than  any  I  have 
seen  in  modern  pictures. 


HARDWICK,  CHEPSTOW,  July  lot/i,  1851. 

...  I  think  I  am  as  anxious  as  you  are  for  real  synodical 
church  government,  but  do  not  think  that  God  has  yet  shown 
us  the  right  way.  The  other  day  we  had  a  tolerable  debate 
on  the  subject  at  the  Union,  when  I  spoke  long  and  strongly 
in  its  favor,  and  I  hope  did  some  good;  we  were  very 
amicable,  except  an  absurd  man  who  got  up,  when  Temple 
spoke  of  '  scientific  theology,'  to  protest  solemnly  against  the 
profanity  of  'placing  science  on  a  level  with  theology.' 

I  fear  you  scarcely  tolerate  my  having  joined  the 
'Apostles/  but  you  must  not  judge  too  much  by  vague 
impressions.  The  record  book  of  proceedings  is  very 
amusing;  think  of  Maurice  voting  that  virtue  in  women 
proceeds  more  from  fear  than  modesty !  It  is  a  good  sign 
that  there  is  always  a  large  number  of  neutral  votes.  Some 

of  's  are  ludicrous  enough;  e.g.  on  the  question 

whether  we  ought  to  follow  the  text  of  Scripture  or  the 
discoveries  of  science  as  to  the  formation  of  the  earth,  etc. 
He  votes  the  latter,  adding  a  note  that  he  considers  the 
question  of  very  little  consequence,  as  he  'does  not  believe 
in  matter ' ! 

I  am  very  glad  that  Browne  is  so  fond  of  the  young 
Lutherans  Guericke  is  a  brave,  genial,  uncompromising 


fellow;  if  I  have  time  and  space,  I  will  copy  an  amazing  note 
from  his  Allgemeine  Symbolik.  Of  Stier  I  know  very  little. 
Dorner's  name  always  fills  me  with  shame  to  think  that 
Germans  should  now  occupy  the  chosen  English  ground  of 
solid  dogmatic  theology,  and  that  he  is  the  real  representative 
of  Pearson,  Bull,  and  Waterland.  His  great  historical  treatise 
'  on  the  Person  of  Christ '  is,  I  believe,  above  praise ;  Wilber- 
force  is  honest  enough  to  acknowledge  his  great  obligations 
to  it  in  his  book  on  the  Incarnation.  I  should  much  like  to 
know  Morrison  of  Truro  (who  translated  Kant  and  has  lately 
done  Guericke's  Antiquities) ;  he  is  an  '  Apostle '  and  a 
great  friend  of  Thompson's.  He  has  revised  for  Bohn  the 
American  translation  of  Neander,  and  the  half-dozen  words 
which  he  lets  fall  in  propria  persona  here  and  there  give  me 
a  very  high  idea  of  him.  I  think  I  should  admire  the 
'  Elijah '  more,  were  I  familiar  with  it,  but  that  is  all ;  it  is 
admirable  and  very  grand,  but  not  deep  or  spiritual.  It 
exactly  answers  to  Mendelssohn's  own  face,  noble  enough  in 
its  way,  but  with  none  of  the  strange  mysterious  depth  of  poor 
Beethoven's  face  and  eyes ;  and  he,  you  know,  tho'  anything 
but  fond  of  yielding  place  to  others,  was  never  tired  of  setting 
up  Handel  as  unsurpassable,  and  chose  to  die  with  his  works 
piled  on  his  bed.  It  seems  to  me  that  Mendelssohn  is 
genial  and  moving  only  in  petty  things,  such  as  some  of  the 
exquisite  Lieder  ohne  Worte. 

The  authoress  of  Mary  Barton  (I  forget  her  name)  is  now, 
I  know,  on  intimate  terms  with  the  Maurices,  but  she  has 
certainly  been  long  married,  and  is,  I  think,  nearer  fifty  than 

I  must  say  a  word  or  two  of  my  breakfast  with  Maurice  on 
Tuesday  week.  I  had  some  pleasant  talk  with  him,  first  on 
various  things,  and  learnt  that  Kingsley  was  to  come  if 
possible.  He  did  come  before  long,  and  I  cannot  say  how 
charmed  I  was  with  him.  The  moment  he  came  in,  Maurice 
tossed  him  a  letter  for  him  (evidently  on  his  late  sermon) ;  he 
read  it  with  a  curling  lip,  and  then  protested  the  world  was 
like  a  cur  dog,  which  first  barks  and  snarls  at  you,  but,  when 
it  finds  that  others  do  not  repudiate  you,  comes  up  to  you  in 
a  patronising  way  and  smells  (here  he  suited  the  action  to  the 


word)  at  you ;  at  which  Maurice  laught  more  than  I  should 
have  thought  possible.  In  the  middle  of  breakfast  the  Arch 
deacon  l  and  his  wife  came  down,  and  very  delightful  was  our 
talk.  But  think  of  the  luxury  after  breakfast ;  thundery  rain 
was  falling,  so  we  four  men  lounged  and  sat  round  the  window 
talking  for  more  than  an  hour.  They  were  all  very  unjust  to 
Ruskin,  of  whose  writings  none  were  really  au  fait,  and  I  was 
unexpectedly  obliged  to  parry  some  of  their  charges.  .  .  .  One 
circumstance  I  shall  not  easily  forget.  All  were  attacking 
Ruskin  for  not  doing  justice  to  Raffaelle's  later  pictures;  I 
suggested  that  this  judgement  was  distorted  by  his  strong  disgust 
for  Raffaelle's  later  immoral  life.  Maurice  said  that  he  had 
lately  been  greatly  cleared,  and  urged  that  he  was  at  all  events 
purer  than  any  one  round  him,  and  dwelt  on  his  strange  posi 
tion  in  that  horrible  city  with  his  infinite  capacities  for  enjoying 
beauty  ;  and  finally  Kingsley  said  slowly  and  solemnly,  "They 
jest  at  scars  who  never  felt  a  wound." 

On  Thursday  I  saw  the  British  Institute  Exhibition.  It 
had  two  or  three  wonderful  Leonardo  da  Vincis  (especially 
the  'Vierge  aux  Rochers'),  some  capital  Rembrandt  and 
Vandyke  portraits,  one  or  two  sweet  Murillos,  etc.  Kingsley 
had  urged  me  by  all  means  to  see  the  Dudley  Gallery  at  the 
Egyptian  Hall,  mentioning  particularly  the  duplicate  original 
of  Correggio's  well-known  Dresden  *  Magdalen.'  So  we  all 
went  on  Friday,  and  I  never  enjoyed  such  a  feast  of  art ;  it  is 
chiefly  a  collection  by  some  cardinal  of  the  early  religious 
Italian  schools,  whom,  in  spite  of  Ruskin,  I  was  not  prepared 
to  like.  The  forms  were  often  stiff  and  flat,  but  the  beauty 
was  inconceivably  divine  (I  can  use  no  other  word) ;  the 
monkery  lay  very  lightly  upon  them.  I  scarcely  know  what  I 
liked  best.  Giotto,  Francia,  Fra  Bartolomeo,  and  Fra  Angelico 
were  all  wonderful.  One  picture  by  Garofalo  (I  don't  know 
his  name)  contained,  I  think,  the  most  glorious  woman's  head 
I  ever  saw ;  Raffaelle  could  not  surpass  it.  Then  there  were 
some  inexpressibly  delightful  Leonardos  and  J.  Bellinis,  a 
good  Titian  or  two,  and  a  large  very  early  Raffaelle.  I  was 
just  going  to  propose  departure  when  I  met  Brimley,  who 
told  me  Kingsley  and  his  wife  would  soon  be  there;  so  I 

1  Hare. 


began  examining  anew  with  Brimley,  to  whom  the  class  of 
pictures  was  almost  as  new  as  to  me,  and  who  was  almost 
equally  pleased ;  by  and  bye  Kingsley  came  and  introduced 
me  to  his  wife.  It  was  delicious  to  look  at  such  pictures  with 
Kingsley,  and  I  was  delighted  to  find  that  he  chiefly  enjoyed 
the  same  things  that  I  had  done,  as  well  as  pointed  out 
others ;  I  had  no  idea  how  catholic  he  was.  He  showed  me 
in  poor  Fra  Angelico's  'Last  Judgement'  the  meeting  in 
heaven  of  him  and  his  love,  who  died  young,  and  on  whose 
death  he  became  through  grief  a  monk. 

On  Sunday  afternoon  I  took  my  father  and  Kate  to 
Lincoln's  Inn,  where  we  had  from  Maurice  the  most  mag 
nificent  (I  do  not  say  most  valuable)  sermon  I  ever  heard  or 
read,  being  the  last  of  his  series  on  the  early  books  of  the 
O.  T.  It  was  on  Samuel  iii.  14,  the  character  of  Eli,  and 
atheistical  priests,  and  prophets  raised  up  to  testify  against 
the  priests  (with  a  long  digression  on  Savonarola),  and  the 
speaking  by  the  mouth  of  a  child.  You  can  conceive  his 
applications  to  our  own  times ;  the  eloquence  was  marvellous, 
especially  when  he  summed  up  the  number  of  ways  in  which 
"  we,  the  priests  of  the  English  Church,  cause  the  offering  of 
the  Lord  to  be  abhorred,"  and  prayed  solemnly  for  the 
prophets,  Carlyle  being  evidently  in  his  mind ;  yet  now  I  feel 
it  was  a  one-sided  sermon. 

To  THE  REV.  G.  M.  GORHAM 

HARDWICK,  CHEPSTOW,  September  ist,  1851. 

.  .  .  The  day  after  I  left  Cambridge  I  went  down  to  Bath, 
and  was  there  nearly  a  week,  and  was  then  about  a  fortnight  in 
London,  seeing  the  big  glass  toyshop  and  other  London  sights. 
Unluckily  I  am  singular  in  being  rather  disappointed  with  the 
individual  toys,  grand  as  is  the  general  effect.  The  designs 
seemed  to  me  for  the  most  part  either  tame  or  rabid.  ...  At 
last  we  came  down  to  this  house,  which  my  father  bought  in  the 
spring  ;  and  having  been  living  in  hired  abodes  for  fourteen 
years, — in  short,  ever  since  we  left  Ireland  for  educational 
purposes, — we  are  most  glad  to  get  truly  settled  again,  especi- 


ally  in  such  a  beautiful  neighbourhood,  with  all  the  Wye  scenery 
easily  approachable,  and  Tintern  within  five  miles.  Here  I 
have  been  '  reading '  rather  better  than  usual,  but  have  not 
done  much  beyond  some  Plato,  and  the  Master's  Philosophy  of 
the  Inductive  Sciences^  and  a  little  Theology.  However,  the 
Master's  book  is  good  in  itself,  and  indispensable  for  Fellow 
ship  purposes. 

Thank  you  much  for  your  account  of  yourself  and  your 
doings.  Such  things  are  never  'uninteresting'  to  me,  and, 
as  for  their  being  *  selfish,'  that  they  cannot  be  except  made 
so  by  a  selfish  spirit ;  personal  they  may  be,  but  that  is  quite 
another  matter.  I  am  glad  you  have  found  such  pleasant 
and  congenial  quarters.  If  your  pupil  seems  disposed  to  go 
out  in  the  Natural  Tripos,  by  all  means  encourage  him, 
so  far  as  you  can  do  so  without  relaxing  his  Mathematics. 
He  certainly  should  learn  Botany  on  the  Natural  System. 

.  .  .  With  regard  to  Moral  Philosophy,  I  asked  Maurice 
exactly  the  same  question  a  year  and  a  half  ago.  Unluckily  his 
letter  is  at  Cambridge,  but  I  will  try  to  recall  its  substance. 
He  said  he  doubted  whether  on  the  whole  he  could  improve 
the  '  special  subjects '  marked  out  by  Whewell ;  but  that,  at 
all  events,  he  was  convinced  the  right  thing  in  all  such  cases 
was  to  follow  the  prescribed  course,  and  obedience  would 
bring  its  own  blessing.  He  urged  me  to  give  the  greatest 
attention  to  the  Plato  and  Aristotle,  and  to  make  them  the 
central  points  of  my  reading,  and  the  other  books  subsidiary. 
I  did  not  myself  go  through  anything  like  the  whole  course, 
but  read  all  the  Plato.  The  Aristotle  I  would  read,  if  I  were 
you,  if  possible — in  Chase's  translation  if  not  in  Greek ;  and, 
next  to  that,  Cousin  and  Sanderson.  I  need  not  tell  you 
that  Butler  is  always  good,  and  the  Master  upon  him.  I 
would  also  briefly  skim  Macintosh's  Dissertation  on  Ethical 
Philosophy,  and  perhaps  Whewell's  preface  to  it.  In  the  quarto 
Encyc.  Metrop.  Maurice  devotes  44  pages  to  an  account  of 
Modern  Philosophy.  It  is  of  course  valuable,  but  far  too 
brief  and  sketchy ;  in  short,  with  the  exception  of  the 
elaborate  account  and  defence  of  the  Schoolmen  (evidently 
written  against  Hampden),  and  a  clear  indication  of  the 
progress  from  Locke  to  Kant,  it  is  little  more  than  a  series  of 


hints,  and  not  a  history  at  all.  Blackstone  of  course  is  good, 
but  I  know  next  to  nothing  about  Law.  I  must  read  Mill 
more  before  I  can  judge  of  him.  It  is  very  hard,  but  very 
necessary,  to  distinguish  his  own  deductions  and  applications 
from  the  scientific  principles  which  he  lays  down.  I  suspect 
the  inconclusiveness  lies  in  the  former.  —  Ever,  my  dear 
Gorham,  very  truly  yours,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 


CAMBRIDGE,  September  2<)th,  1851. 

You  have  been  led  by  God  in  all  your  past  thoughts 
and  ways  in  a  direction  which  involved  most  painful  contra 
dictions.  You  will  not  forget  that  the  same  God  has  brought 
you  in  like  manner  out  of  those  painful  contradictions,  and 
has  cut  a  knot  for  you  which  you  could  not  cut  yourself. 
That  the  process  brings  bitter  pain  is  certain,  but  pain  is 
only  a  secondary  evil,  and  well  is  it  for  us  if  we  can  recognize 
it  as  a  token  of  our  sonship.  So  at  least  am  I  beginning  at 
length  in  some  slight  degree  to  feel,  having  a  thousand  times 
refused  to  listen.  We  can  still  pray  with  not  the  less  energy, 
"Despise  not  then  the  work  of  thine  own  hands,"  though 
we  may  feel  that  we  have  misinterpreted  the  form  for  which 
the  work  was  destined. — God  bless  you,  ever  your  affectionate 
friend,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 


CAMBRIDGE,  October  loth,  1851.     9.30  A.M. 
Trinity  Fellowships 

Rowe         .  .  -3rd  year 

H.  Tayler  .  .3rd  year 

Westlake    .  .  .2nd  year 

Watson      .  .  .2nd  year 

I  needed  the  humbling. 



CAMBRIDGE,  October  i8//£,  1851. 

My  dearest  Mother — It  seems  such  a  time  since  the 
Fellowship  List  came  out  that  I  can  hardly  believe  I  have  not 
long  ago  told  you  all  about  it.  During  the  vacation  I  rather 
on  the  whole  expected  to  succeed,  but  on  arriving  here  soon 
realized  that  Watson's  place  would  make  him  tolerably  safe. 
Still,  though  not  expecting  success,  I  should  not  have  been 
surprized  by  it ;  and  so  felt  some  little  annoyance  at  first,  but 
in  an  hour  had  forgotten  all  about  the  matter.  This  day 
week  I  called  on  Thompson,  and  had  an  hour  and  a  half  s 
talk  with  him,  in  which,  of  course,  I  learned  much.  He 
welcomed  me  very  cordially,  and  said  he  was  anxious  to  tell 
me  what  a  very  favourable  impression  I  had  made  on  the 
Examiners  generally,  himself  included ;  he  said  that  I  had  been 
very  near  indeed  being  elected ;  at  one  period  I  had  actually 
a  majority  of  votes.  The  Master  expressed  very  superlative 
opinions  about  my  Philosophy  paper ;  apparently  I  was  most 
successful  in  that  subject,  both  in  the  specially -appropriated 
paper  and  in  the  translation  of  Plato  and  Aristotle.  I  was 
fully  ahead  of  every  one  in  my  year  (not  elected),  Schreiber 
being  second  and  Beamont  third;  and  Thompson  told  me 
that,  unless  I  fall  off  woefully  in  the  course  of  the  year,  which 
he  did  not  see  the  least  reason  to  suppose,  I  shall  be  elected 
as  a  matter  of  course  next  year.  Accordingly  I  have  received 
divers  anticipatory  congratulations ;  and  I  suppose,  if  I  go  in, 
I  shall  be  safe  enough.  This  week  I  have  had  enough  to  do 
with  the  (so-called)  Voluntary  Theological  Examination,  a 
troublesome  but  not  particularly  difficult  one.  I  was  not  so 
well  prepared  as  I  could  have  wished,  as  it  was  no  easy 
matter  to  work  much  last  week  after  emerging  from  the 
Fellowship  drudgery.  However  it  mattered  little,  for  the 
papers  were  badly  set,  and,  if  I  had  tried  ever  so  much,  I 
should  have  done  very  little  more.  I  left  very  little  undone, 
and  probably  beat  nineteen-twentieths  of  those  in,  but  cannot 
look  upon  it  as  anything  more  than  a  bothersome  but  neces 
sary  job  got  done  with,  for  it  is  impossible  to  give  satisfactory 

AGE  23 



answers  to  unsatisfactory  questions, — at  least  in  a  long  ex 
amination.  I  have  had  a  great  enjoyment  this  week  in 
Blunt's  company ;  he  came  up  on  Saturday,  and  we  have 
almost  lived  together ;  he  started  this  morning  for  Brighton. 
Well !  I  think  I  have  by  this  time  said  enough  about  my 
precious  self!  ...  I  have  not  given  you  at  all  an  equiva 
lent  for  your  delightful  letter,  but  /  have  no  garden  to  lay 
out,  and  you  would  hardly  care  to  hear  how  my  kettle  sings, 
so  I  must  say  good-night. — Ever,  dearest  mother,  your  affec 
tionate  son,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 


CAMBRIDGE,  October  igth,  1851. 

Thompson  expressed  a  wish  (to  me)  that  Mackenzie 
would  publish  his  essay.  I  do  not  know  whether  it  is 
absolutely  necessary  to  correct  and  annotate  it ;  if  not,  I  shall 
be  only  too  happy  to  correct  the  proofs,  and  help  in  any  way 
in  getting  it  through  the  press. 

I  have  very  little  Cambridge  news  to  tell.  Westcott  has 
been  ordained,  and  [has  been]  doing  duty  in  Birmingham,  but 
is  come  up  for  the  term.  The  usual  crowd  of  what  Thomp 
son  calls  'the  early  Fathers'  has  of  course  brought  up  the 
usual  crowd  of  'nice'  young  men,  and  chapel  swarmed 
to-night  to  overflowing  with  astonished  surplices. 


CAMBRIDGE,  October  zist,  1851. 

.  .  .  Carlyle's  Sterling  is  very  fine ;  if  you  cannot  get  hold 
of  it,  I  will  send  it  as  soon  as  Stephen  returns  my  copy.  It 
is,  however,  very  perverse — partly  from  its  keen  sight ;  you 
cannot  imagine  his  bitter  hatred  of  Coleridge,  to  whom  he 
(truly  enough)  ascribes  the  existence  of  '  Puseyism,'  etc.  etc., 
and  whose  influence  he  considers  to  be  the  one  thing  which 
still  keeps  some  intelligent  men  from  abandoning  the  Church 
and  her  crucified  Lord  and  Formulae,  for  the  '  Destinies,' 


'  Eternal  Radiancies,'  etc.  etc.  The  picture  of  Sterling  is 
doubtless  almost  true,  as  far  as  it  goes,  and  an  exquisitely 
beautiful  one  it  is ;  but  Hare's  is  no  less  true.  Many  inci 
dental  portraitures  are  wonderfully  done, — Sterling's  mother,  for 
instance.  Of  Hare  he  always  speaks  with  respect  and  regard, 
but  never  strongly — "  surely  a  man  of  much  piety,"  etc.  He 
bestows  not  a  single  epithet  on  Maurice ;  but  the  tone  and  the 
silence  is,  and  is  meant  to  be,  a  deeper  and  more  reverential 
compliment  than  words  could  convey.  Altogether  I  cannot 
regret  the  publication  of  the  book,  for  all  the  calumnies  it  may 
generate,  and  the  unjust  impression  which  dear  Carlyle  conveys 
of  himself.  Thank  you  much  for  Harold.  I  cannot  express 
how  much  I  like  it;  its  strength  is  marvellous.  Lees,  who 
has  been  up  here  (as  has  also  W.  Howard,  whom,  alas  !  I 
have  scarcely  seen,  but  hope  to  see  again  in  a  few  days),  says 
it  was  written  ages  ago,  long  before  The  Sainfs  Tragedy. 
Kingsley  is  getting  on  with  his  new  fourth  century  novel  Hypatia. 
I  doubt  Kingsley's  power  to  appreciate  that  age,  but  at  all 
events  he  will  throw  great  light  on  its  strange  events,  having 
read  most  largely  in  almost  unknown  books.  Perhaps  you  do 
not  know  Hypatia's  story,  as  told  by  Socrates;  how,  being 
young,  beautiful,  noble,  of  spotless  purity,  and  a  teacher  of 
the  so-called  Platonic  philosophy,  she  somehow  incurred  the 
hatred  of  that  bloody  bigot  Cyril  of  Alexandria,  and  how,  with 
his  connivance,  a  band  of  fanatics  pursued  her  to  the  altar, 
and  there  tore  the  living  flesh  from  her  bones  with  oyster 
shells.  Have  you  seen  Croker's  attack  on  Maurice  and 
Kingsley  in  the  new  Quarterly  ?  Brimley  wrote  an  excellent 
answer  ten  days  ago  in  the  Spectator.  I  wish  he  would  com 
plete  it  with  instances.  I  like  Ruskin's  pamphlet,  but  don't 
think  it  has  much  to  do  with  the  Pre-Raphaelites.  Dyce's 
answer  to  the  '  Sheepfolds '  is  not  bad.  I  have  just  got  a  nice 
volume  of  poems  by  one  Meredith  ; *  they  are  not  deep,  but 
show  a  rare  eye  and  ear.  There  is  a  Keatsian  sensuousness 
about  them ;  but  the  activity  and  go  prevent  it  from  being 
enervating  and  immoral.  .  .  . 

I  am  going  to  work  at  Hebrew,  and  have  likewise  Modern 
Painters,  Bentley  (the  critic,  not  publisher),  Bull,  F.  Newman, 
1  George  Meredith. 


Comte's  Politique  Positive,  and  (/3o£s  ITTI  yA.aW# x)  an  article  2 
on  Christian  Socialism  on  hand  •  satis,  puto. 


CAMBRIDGE,  November  yd,  1851. 

My  dearest  Mother — I  wonder  whether  you  are  hugging 
the  fire  as  affectionately  at  this  moment  as  I  am  doing.  This 
is  the  first  real  frost  we  have  had,  and  it  has  been  bitterly  cold 
to-day,  though  very  fine  and  excellent  for  walking. 



But  still  I'm  all  froz 
From  the  tip  of  my  noz 
To  the  tips  of  my  toz, 

least  I  was  just  now,  coming  in  from  chapel  through  the 
cold  courts,  till  I  got  thawed.  It  is  pleasant  to  realise  that 
you  are  able  to  write  about  out-of-door  things  as  being  really 
familiar  friends,  after  being  used  to  eschew  all  acquaintance 
with  them  (pavements,  door-steps,  and  brick  walls  excepted) 
in  the  intervals  between  summer  and  summer.  To  be  sure  it 
was  in  a  great  measure  the  same  last  winter  at  Newland ;  but 
still  we  were  too  palpably  there  rather  town  mice  come  to  visit 
country  mice,  than  genuine  country  mice.  .  .  . 

As  you  suppose,  I  have  lost  the  company  of  many  friends, 
and  have  not  made  many  new  ones ;  but  still  I  have  plenty  to 
walk  with — Westlake,  Beamont,  Brimley,  E.  Scott,  Westcott, 
Babington,  Mathews,  etc.  etc. ;  and  I  hope  to  extend  my 
acquaintance  among  the  younger  men,  especially  under 
graduate  scholars  of  Trinity.  My  attendance  at  chapel  varies 
mostly  from  six  or  seven  to  ten  or  twelve  times  a  week,  of 
which  a  respectable  and  increasing  number  are  in  the  morning. 
I  am  not  reading  very  hard,  but  am  not  idle,  having  various 
things  on  hand ;  Classics,  Theology,  and  Hebrew  (which  I  am 
beginning  to  take  up  again)  are  the  most  staple  subjects,  and 
I  have  always  plenty  of  miscellaneous  reading — Politics,  and 
Biography,  and  Poetry,  and  all  manner  of  things — on  hand  to 

1  Anglice,  '  Tell  it  not  in  Gath. ' 
2  This  article  was  apparently  not  finished. 


a  greater  or  less  degree.  Westcott  and  I  have  started  a  small 
chorus — Gorham,  Freshfield,  Howard,  and  Bradshaw,  besides 
ourselves — to  meet  once  a  week,  and  get  Amps,  the  organist 
of  St.  Andrews,  and  deputy  organist  of  Trinity,  an  excellent 
musician  and  master,  to  teach  us  part  singing.  As  yet  we 
have  only  met  once  to  try  voices,  and  are  pronounced  to  have 
two  basses  and  four  tenors,  mine  being  of  the  former ;  but  on 
Thursday  we  begin  regularly.  Amps  is  to  provide  for  the 
treble  and  alto  parts  one  or  two  boys  each.  We  anticipate 
much  pleasure  without  much  expense.  They  had  on  Saturday 
a  great  Football  Match  at  Rugby — old  Rugbeians  against 
present  Rugbeians;  where  the  former,  though  35  against  400, 
kicked  one  goal  and  completely  penned  up  the  great  host  in 
one  part  of  the  Close  all  the  afternoon. 

To  MR.  C.  H.  CHAMBERS 

CAMBRIDGE,  November  2%th>  1851. 

.  .  .  Even  when  long  looked  for,  it  is  some  time  before 
we  realise  the  sharpness  of  a  very  severe  blow.  People  may 
say  that  must  arise  from  the  first  effect  being  to  stun ;  but  the 
result  is  the  same  when  there  has  been  no  stunning,  but 
conscious  and  intelligent  acquiescence. 

I  can  quite  understand  what  you  say  about  your  genea 
logical  researches,  though  I  have  very  little  taste  that  way 
myself;  but  I  suppose  it  is  rather  undeveloped  than  non 
existent,  for  not  very  long  ago,  in  reading  a  novel  (Lady  Alice), 
I  took  the  trouble  to  make  out  the  pedigrees  and  write  them 
on  paper  (being  very  intricate)  in  order  to  understand  the 
story  better;  and  the  Stemmata  Ccesarum,  Ptolemceorum,  etc., 
in  Smith's  Dictionary  smite  me  rather  with  respectful  admira 
tion  than  with  fear  and  disgust. 


HARDWICK,  December  22nd,  1851. 

.  .  .  There  is  great  satisfaction  in  the  assurance  that 
nothing  in  which  God  has  been  a  guide  and  a  worker  can 


truly  come  to  an  end  and  lack  fulfilment.  I  cannot  describe 
the  rest  I  have  sometimes  found  in  those  wondrous  words  of 
Tauler's  which  Trench  quotes  (Parables,  p.  177),  "Upon  the 
way  in  which  we  may  have  restored  to  us  '  the  years  which  the 
cankerworm  has  eaten,' "  respecting  "  that  Now  of  eternity, 
wherein  God  essentially  dwells  in  a  steadfast  Now ;  where  is 
neither  anything  past,  neither  to  come;  where  the  beginning 
and  the  end  of  the  whole  sum  of  time  stand  present ;  where, 
that  is,  in  God,  all  things  lost  are  found ;  how,  finally,  all  things 
that  we  have  let  go  or  lost  we  may  find  again,  and  gather  up 
again  even  in  that  most  precious  storehouse  of  the  Lord's 

Christmas  Eve. — I  hoped  to  have  gone  on  yesterday,  but 
was  prevented,  and  as  I  am  anxious  to  wish  you  a  happy  and 
blessed  Christmas  I  must  be  brief,  for  it  is  near  virtual  post 
hour.  I  must  write  again  to  tell  you  of  Blunt's  wedding,  at 
which  I  was,  as  you  suppose,  present,  to  my  great  joy.  I 
don't  understand  what  '  the  fancies  and  speculations '  are,  on 
which  you  want  '  sun  and  air '  to  be  let  in,  and  am,  indeed, 
apt  to  be  far  too  deeply  plunged  in  that  cloudland  myself  to 
be  very  Phoebus — or  Boreas — like  for  you  to  any  practical 
purpose.  Nevertheless  sprout  away. 

I  send  a  scrap  of  Meredith,  copied  for  you  weeks  and 
weeks  ago ;  is  it  not  sweet  and  perfect  in  itself  as  a  song  ? 
Talk  of  Moore  and  Herrick !  It  seems  to  me  more  like 
Shakespeare's  songs.  Well !  to-morrow  brings  glad  tidings  of 
great  joy  to  us,  as  to  all  people  ;  may  we  rejoice  in  it !  God 
bless  you. 


HARDWICK,  December  zgt/i  and  $Qth,  1851. 

.  .  .  With  regard  to  F.  Newman,  it  may  perhaps  be  well 
to  read  his  Soul,  on  account  of  his  curious  dread  of  pantheism  ; 
but  I  confess  I  would  rather  read  some  man  of  stronger  mind 
from  the  same  point  of  view  doing  the  same  thing,  i.e.  trying 
to  construct  a  religion  from  within,  i.e.  from  the  pantheistic  or 
anthropocentric  principle.  I  have  looked  a  little  at  his  friend 
Mackay's  Progress  of  the  Intellect,  an  intelligent  and  very 

VOL.  I  P 


learned  book,  but  horribly  dull,  lifeless,  and  dreadfully 
tolerant  of  us  poor  Christians,  which  is  a  thing  I  can't 
abide.  (This  reminds  me  of  a  story  Stephen  told  me. 
Some  Whig  was  remonstrating  with  some  High  Church  clergy 
man  for  disliking  Lord  Lansdowne :  "  Why,  surely,  you 
can't  deny  Lord  Lansdowne  tolerates  the  Church."  "  Bah, 
that's  the  very  reason  we  hate  him,"  was  the  answer,  "  because 
he  tolerates  the  Church.")  I  have  read  Maurice's  new  book l 
but  once,  but  like  it  much  better  than  his  last.  The  first  is 
surely  a  most  beautiful  application  of  the  Kantian  Noumena 
and  Phenomena  doctrine.  The  talk  about  the  Fall  is  rather 
confusing  to  me.  But  I  must  read  the  whole  again.  It  is, 
as  you  say,  a  great  thing  that  he  sticks  so  close  to  the  letter. 
But  I  wish  he  knew  Hebrew,  and  I  also.  I  had  not  heard  of 
the  panic  at  King's  College ;  if  you  learn  more,  pray  tell  me. 
I  think  I  must  write  to  Maurice  himself  soon. 

.  .  .  Certes  we  never  wanted  true  Teutonic  Protestantism 
as  we  do  now ;  it  is  the  only  thing  that  can  keep  true  Catholicism 
from  rotting  into  one  of  the  legion  forms  of  pseudo-catholicism 
which  swarm  around  us.  Have  you  heard  of  a  new  book, 
Wilson's  Bampton  Lectures,  which  are  making  a  great  stir  at 
Oxford  ?  I  have  read  part  of  them  (he  was  one  of  the  '  five 
tutors'  who  protested  against  Tract  90),  and  they  seem  to 
me  perfectly  horrible ;  people  will  quote  them  as  instances  of 
Germanising,  but  the  Germanism  lies  only  on  the  surface. 
Locke  and  Zwingle  are  the  real  originators  of  the  book,  which 
is  dreadfully  and  calmly  philosophically  destructive.  It  is  on 
the  Communion  of  Saints,  and  the  object  is  to  show  that  there 
is  no  communion  between  the  living  and  the  dead,  and  that 
Communion  of  Saints  can  mean  only  good  action  in  different 
Christians,  assisted  by  'separate  rays'  from  the  same  divine 
source ;  incidentally  he  intimates  his  hatred  of  doctrines  and 
contempt  for  historical  Christianity.  Truly  it  is  the  dreariest 
of  all  the  Gospels  (Bentham's  not  excluded)  preached  to  our 
poor  age. 

I  am  doing  some  little  steady  work.  Every  night  after 
prayers  I  lug  down  a  big  pile  of  books, — Bruder's  Concordance, 
Olshausen,  De  Wette,  Tischendorfs  text,  Bagster's  Critical 
1  Probably  Patriarchs  and  Lawgivers. 

AGE    23 



Greek  Testament,  and  a  German  dictionary, — and  work  at  St. 
Paul  chronologically.  I  have  been  two  nights  at  2  Thess.  ii. 
and  have  at  last  got  some  light,  which  has  much  pleased  me 
and  encouraged  me;  I  find  it  altogether  a  most  interesting 
and  all-ways  profitable  study.  I  had  no  idea  till  the  last  few 
weeks  of  the  importance  of  texts,  having  read  so  little  Greek 
Testament,  and  dragged  on  with  the  villainous  Textus  Receptus. 
Westcott  recommended  me  to  get  Bagster's  Critical,  which 
has  Scholz's  text,  and  is  most  convenient  in  small  quarto,  with 
parallel  Greek  and  English,  and  a  wide  margin  on  purpose  for 
notes.  This  pleased  me  much ;  so  many  little  alterations  on 
good  MS.  authority  made  things  clear  not  in  a  vulgar,  notional 
way,  but  by  giving  a  deeper  and  fuller  meaning.  But  after  all 
Scholz  is  very  capricious  and  sparing  in  introducing  good 
readings;  and  Tischendorf  I  find  a  great  acquisition,  above 
all,  because  he  gives  the  various  readings  at  the  bottom  of  his 
page,  and  his  Prolegomena  are  invaluable.  Think  of  that  vile 
Textus  Receptus  leaning  entirely  on  late  MSS.  ;  it  is  a  blessing 
there  are  such  early  ones.  .  .  . 

Westcott,  Gorham,  C.  B.  Scott,  Benson,  Bradshaw,  Luard, 
etc.,  and  I  have  started  a  society  for  the  investigation  of  ghosts 
and  all  supernatural  appearances  and  effects,  being  all  dis 
posed  to  believe  that  such  things  really  exist,  and  ought  to  be 
discriminated  from  hoaxes  and  mere  subjective  delusions ;  we 
shall  be  happy  to  obtain  any  good  accounts  well  authenticated 
with  names.  Westcott  is  drawing  up  a  schedule  of  questions. 
Cope  calls  us  the  '  Cock  and  Bull  Club ' ;  our  own  temporary 
name  is  the  '  Ghostly  Guild.'  Westcott  himself  is,  I  fear,  about 
to  leave  us.  ...  His  book  has  been  wonderfully  well  received. 
He  is  preparing  a  companion  volume  for  the  epistles,  Elements 
of  the  Apostolical  Harmony,  which  will,  I  think,  be  rather  odd. 
I  am  getting  to  know  more  younger  'live'  men,  which  is  a 
great  pleasure.  E.  A.  Scott  of  Rugby  I  like  exceedingly ;  he 
is  thick  with  the  A.  P.  Stanley  set.  Benson  also,  and  some 
of  those  just  going  out,  seem  likely  to  be  valuable  friends. 
He  gave  us  a  beautiful  declamation  in  Hall  on  George  Herbert, 
which  he  is  printing  (not  publishing)  at  Martin's  request.  We 
had  Thackeray  at  Cambridge  to  deliver  his  six  lectures  on 
English  Humorists  of  last  century ;  I  heard  all  but  the  last. 


They  were  very  delightful  and  on  the  whole  good.  I  did  not 
meet  him  while  he  was  there. 

I  have  now  had  a  term  of  the  '  Apostles,'  and,  on  the  whole, 
like  them;  ridentem  dicere  verum  seems  their  motto,  and,  of 
course,  the  verum  is  now  and  then  sunk  in  the  risus,  but  not, 
I  think,  substantially. 

And  so  poor  Turner  is  gone  at  last !  and  even  the  Times 
says  calmly,  "  The  fine  arts  in  England  have  not  produced  a 
more  remarkable  man  than  Joseph  Mallard  William  Turner." 
I  have  not  seen  any  other  critiques.  Only  think  how  fast  the 
giants  fall — Wordsworth,  and  Peel,  and  Turner ;  and  soon,  I 
fear,  the  glorious  old  Duke.  I  got  a  number  of  delightful  anec 
dotes,  etc.,  about  Turner  three  or  four  weeks  ago  from  W.  T. 
Kingsley,  and  saw  part  of  the  Liber  Studiorum  (and  hope  to 
see  the  rest  next  term),  and  one  or  two  glorious  water-color 
drawings  of  his.  While  I  think  of  it,  let  me  beg  you  to  look 
up  on  the  heath  near  you  for  ripe  seed  of  Ulex  nanus ;  to 
make  sure,  you  had  better  gather  from  unmistakably  dwarf 
furze  bushes.  We  want  them  much  for  the  Cambridge  Botanical 
Garden ;  if  not  ripe  now,  you  may  possibly  get  them  before 
you  leave  Easebourne. 

I  think  it  is  since  I  wrote  at  Cambridge  that  the  Voluntary 
List  has  come  out.  It  is  scarcely  worth  mentioning,  but  you 
may  be  glad  to  hear  that,  when  I  went  for  my  certificate  to 
Blunt,  he  told  me  he  had  had  very  great  pleasure  in  looking 
over  my  papers,  etc.  He  asked  if  I  were  residing  to  go  in  for 
a  fellowship.  I  told  him  I  had  just  missed  one,  and  that  of 
course  my  reading  for  it  had  greatly  interfered  with  my  reading 
for  the  Voluntary.  He  said  he  should  not  have  thought  it. 
At  going  out  he  wished  me  all  success  very  warmly. 


HARDWICK,  CHEPSTOW,  January  2nd,  1852. 

.  .  .  Your  prophecy  has  proved  seemingly  true;  I  am 
sticking  at  2  Thess.  ii.  But,  for  all  that,  you  are  no  true 
prophet,  I  make  bold  to  say.  I  work  very  regularly  from  half- 
past  ten  to  half-past  eleven  every  evening,  and  get  on  so  (com- 


paratively)  smoothly  that  there  is  a  good  chance  of  getting 
through  a  respectable  proportion  of  my  prescribed  task.  That 
troublesome  chapter  has  occupied  many  hours,  but  it  is  a 
great  satisfaction  that  at  last  I  have  gained  some  light  upon  the 
matter,  though  a  great  deal  remains  to  be  cleared  up.  What 
assures  me  most  is  that  my  view  seems  to  combine  in  a  certain 
degree  all  others,  to  be  analogous  to  the  acknowledged  inter 
pretation  of  other  prophecies,  and  to  make  the  whole  passage 
a  beautiful  illustration  of  the  meaning  of  prophecy  and 
inspiration,  getting  completely  rid  of  Olshausen's  preliminary 
discussion  as  to  the  '  subjective  '  or  '  objective  '  nature  of  the 
passage.  Verses  6  and  7  seem  to  me  to  have  been  quite 
misunderstood  as  to  their  construction.  I  wish  I  could  make 
up  my  mind  as  to  whether  a  Menschwerdung  des  Satans  really 
widerstrebt  dem  denkenden  Verstande  and  dent  frommen  Gefuhle, 
but  incline  to  think  not.  But  this  and  other  points  must  be 
kept  for  conversation. 


HARDWICK,  CHEPSTOW,  January  24//&,  1852. 
.  .  .  We  must  have  some  talk  about  2  Thess.  ii.  when  we 
meet.  Apparently  we  shall  agree  in  most  points  ;  but  is  there 
any  real  ground  for  applying  6  Kar^v  to  the  Roman  Empire  ? 
if  so,  what  was  the  immediate  anti-christian  manifestation  that 
was  to  follow  its  removal  ?  I  take  the  immediate  fulfilment 
of  the  whole  to  be  the  Fall  of  Jerusalem,  which,  from  my  view 
of  the  connexion  of  O.  and  N.  T.,  I  probably  think  of  more 
importance  than  you  do.  God  Himself  seems  to  me  to  be 
6  Kare^wv  ;  but  of  course,  in  that  case,  I  should  adopt  a  differ 
ent  grammatical  construction  from  the  usual  one  ;  as,  indeed,  I 
should  do  on  other  grounds.  I  can  make  nothing  of  the 
order  of  r?ys  d 


HARDWICK,  January  26th,  1852. 

...  I  heard   that  Hypatia  was  to  be  an  exposition   of 
modern  politics;    the  Church  the  friend  of  democracy,  the 


heathen,  and  especially  the  Neo-Platonists  (whom  he  wants 
to  make  out  Emersonians),  of  aristocracy ;  and  so  poor 
Hypatia's  murder  a  most  proper  and  Christian  punishment 
for  the  sin  of  being  an  aristocrat !  I  hope  this  is  not  true, 
but  have  my  fears. 

Do  you  feel  warm  on  National  Defences?  I  confess  I 
do,  and  have  distant  visions  of  taking  to  rifle  practice  and  I 
know  not  what. 

To  MR.  C.  H.  CHAMBERS 

HARDWICK,  January  zjth,  1852. 

.  .  .  It  is  strange,  the  placid  disgust  with  which  one  (at 
least  I  can  answer  for  one  fraction  of  that  indefinite  pronoun) 
hears  of  the  successive  developments  of  the  famous  Coodytar.1 
Have  you  any  strong  opinions  about  National  Defences  ?  I 
confess  I  have,  and  have  indeed  had  for  several  years ;  only 
it  is  no  use  indulging  them  at  times  when  nobody  cares  about 
the  subject.  But  I  hope  people  are  at  last  beginning  to  open 
their  dull  eyes.  It  will  be  not  a  little  fun  if  we  get  rifle 
corps  (what  is  the  plural  of  '  corps '  ?  not  '  corpses,'  I  hope) 
all  over  the  country.  This  business  of  the  Iron  Engineers  is 
likewise  painfully  interesting ;  but  it  is  rare  to  find  the  justice 
so  wholly  monopolised  by  one  side  of  quarrelling  folks.  I 
did  not  give  the  masters  credit  for  so  much  courage  and 
firmness,  but  I  fear  they  are  by  no  means  sure  of  success. 


CAMBRIDGE,  Febrtiary  %tk,  1852. 

...  I  am  in  the  midst  of  Gladstone's  most  significant 
and  invaluable  Letter  to  the  Bishop  of  Aberdeen  on  lay 
membership  of  synods.  I  don't  know  that  I  agree  with  him 
on  the  final  result — at  least  as  a  matter  of  principle,  for  in 
practice  it  may  perhaps  be  necessary,  but  the  letter  is  a 
model  of  calm,  practical,  Christian  wisdom. 

I  am  at  work  for  the  Hulsean,  and  have  an  awful  list  of 

1    =  Coup  d'etat. 

AGE    23 



Apologists  before  me.  I  long  to  be  rid  of  dear,  good,  prosy 
Justin  Martyr,  and  in  the  midst  of  Tertullian  and  Origen,  and 
still  more  Athanasius,  Theodoret,  and  Augustin.  I  rather 
like  Hypatia,  but  think  it  shows  signs  of  the  perversion  I 
spoke  of  before.  By  the  way,  those  good  monks  are  not,  I 
think,  the  real  live  Manichaeans ;  the  latter  are  surely  yet  to 
come — followers  of  Mani,  I  mane  (forgive  me  !)  Indeed  I 
am  beginning  to  think  that  Maurice,  etc.,  are  not  strictly  right 
in  giving  the  name  Manichseans  to  the  Latin  Tertullianistic 
and  monkish  glorification  of  'holy  virginity';  the  more  exact 
counterpart  of  Manichseism,  I  think,  occurs  in  Origen  and 
the  very  opposite  Alexandrine  school.  Maurice  (whom  I  saw 
in  passing  through  London)  told  me  that  Kingsley  prefaced 
Hypatia  by  stating  that  all  the  seeming  modernisms  were 
literal  translations  from  the  Greek;  I  have  seen  no  such 
preface.  Maurice  said,  significantly,  that  he  was  sure 
Kingsley  would  not  intentionally  misrepresent  old  circum 
stances.  Maurice  recommended  me  Babylon  and  Jerusalem, 
a  pamphlet  by  Dr.  Abeken  in  reply  to  some  furious  anti- 
Protestant  publications  of  Countess  Ida  Hahn  Hahn,  who 
has  emerged  from  the  vanities  of  the  world  into  the  seriosities 
of  Romanism.  Parker  has  published  a  nice  translation  of  it. 
Maurice  called  it  the  best  book  published  in  Germany  for 
some  years.  It  certainly  is  a  grand  book,  honest,  hearty, 
and  wise,  and  without  a  particle  of  German  philosophism, 
though  there  are  defects,  natural  to  a  Lutheran. 

To  MR.  C.  H.  CHAMBERS 

CAMBRIDGE,  February  26tk,  1852. 

...  If  you  see  the  Spectator,  you  must  have  been  some 
what  startled  to  learn  by  its  publication  of  last  Saturday  that 
"  The  Hall  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge,  was  destroyed  by 
fire  yesterday.  Nothing  but  the  walls  remain  ! "  A  friend  of 
mine  wrote  to  me  in  much  natural  agitation  about  it.  You 
will  probably,  however,  have  learned  by  the  other  papers  that 
the  scene  of  the  conflagration  was  Trinity  Hall  College,  much 
of  the  front  building  of  which  was  really  gutted  by  fire  on 


Friday.  My  bedmaker  woke  me  violently  about  half-past  6 
saying  that  it  was  on  fire,  and  Latham  had  sent  to  rouse 
Trinity.  When  I  reached  the  spot,  the  flames  were  bursting 
out  in  fine  style,  but  there  was  a  dearth  of  buckets.  So  I  ran 
back  and  routed  out  the  bedmakers  on  every  staircase  in  the 
New  Court,  and  made  them  bring  all  their  'young  gentle 
men's  '  pails.  Of  course  we  had  several  lines  of  buckets,  but 
the  disposition  of  lanes  and  buildings  was  not  favourable  to 
those  mysterious  concatenations  of  human  beings.  However 
I  got  away  at  half-past  9,  the  fire  being  then  effectually  got 
under,  though  the  engines  were  obliged  to  go  on  playing  till 
half-past  12.  Five  sets  of  rooms  were  destroyed,  and 
several  others  injured,  as  well  as  much  furniture,  etc.  The 
College  is  scatheless,  having  put  on  an  additional  insurance  of 
some  thousands  only  a  few  days  before.  A  marvellous  number 
of  watches  vanished  from  their  owners'  pockets  in  the  con 

Westcott  has  been  away  from  Cambridge  this  term,  having 
been  taking  Keary's  place  at  Harrow  during  the  latter's  illness, 
and  now  to-day  we  hear  that  he  is  dead.  I  suppose  Westcott 
will  remain  there  permanently. 


CAMBRIDGE,  February  2$th,  1852. 

...  In  the  autumn  the  Botanical  Society  of  London 
announced  that  they  were  going  to  distribute  a  good  stock  of 
specimens  of  foreign  plants  to  such  of  their  members  as  wished 
for  them.  I  should  not  have  thought  it  worth  while  to  spend 
any  money  upon  them ;  but,  as  they  were  to  be  had  for  the 
asking,  and  I  knew  I  should  make  at  least  as  good  use  of 
them  as  nineteen-twentieths  of  the  members,  I  applied  for  a 
list  of  what  they  had,  and  marked  all  I  in  decency  could. 
And  this  morning  they  have  arrived  with  some  rare  British 
plants,  and  very  beautiful  some  of  them  are,  especially  the 
Swiss  grasses ;  I  find  also  among  them  a  piece  of  olive  from 
Athens,  and  something  else  from  the  slopes  of  Hymettus. 

You  will  be  somewhat  amused  at  something  I  did  last  week. 


On  the  Tuesday  (at  4)  I  got  a  kind  letter  from  Gerald  Blunt, 
describing  his  forlorn  state,  as  he  was  left  in  sole  charge  of 
the  parish  in  his  rector's  absence,  and  he  was  unwell  and 
always  found  the  work  hard.  Near  the  end  he  said,  "  If  you 
want  employment,  send  me  down  by  Thursday  a  little  sermon," 
giving  a  text,  as  it  was  to  be  part  of  a  series.  When  I  read 
it,  I  took  it  for  a  joke ;  but  in  the  evening  it  struck  me  that 
he  really  was  in  a  hard  plight,  and  that  it  would  be  great  fun  to 
surprize  him  with  a  sermon,  if  only  I  could  manage  it,  but  I 
feared  it  would  take  me  days  to  write  one ;  and  it  must  go 
the  next  morning  at  10,  or  it  would  be  of  no  use.  However 
I  sat  down  to  make  the  attempt,  though  I  had  not  a  moment 
to  spare  for  thought  or  arrangement,  and  expected  very  soon 
to  stick  and  have  to  give  it  up  as  a  bad  job.  But  somehow 
I  went  on  and  on,  time  slipping  away  imperceptibly ;  at  last 
finished  it  (in  exactly  five  hours),  sealed  it,  and  sent  it  the  next 
morning ;  and  have  since  had  the  pleasure  of  receiving  very 
warm  thanks  for  it.1 

CAMBRIDGE,  March  26th  (vel potius  i  A.M.  March  27^),  1852. 

...  I  have  just  learned  from  Scott  that  you  are  coming 
up  early  next  week,  but  he  does  not  know  the  day.  I  hope 
you  will  be  here  for  our  last  musical  meeting  of  the  term, 
which  is  to  be  on  Wednesday  night.  We  have  got  Mozart's 
Mass  in  very  tolerable  order  (except  the  movement  cum 
Sancto  Spiritu,  which  we  have  sung  but  twice,  and  one  or  two 
runs  elsewhere),  and  shall  be  delighted  to  have  you  joining  in 
it ;  I  fear  I  am  getting  a  most  Popish  predilection  for  the  Latin 

.  .  .  The  'ghostly'  papers  have  at  last  arrived  un- 
mutilated  from  Barry,  whom  Gordon  has  brought  into  the 
Society ;  we  are  also  going  to  ask  Thrupp  to  join,  who  has  just 
arrived  from  the  East,  without,  however,  many  additions  to  his 
languages,  excepting  barbarous  theories  about  pronouncing 
Greek  by  accent  entirely,  and  purism  as  to  gutturals. 

1  Mr.  Blunt  found  the  sermon  in  question  too  long,  and  cut  it  in  half. 



HARDWICK,  April  8th,  1852. 

...  I  have  been  working  pretty  hard  for  the  Hulsean,  for 
which  I  have  laid  down  a  sufficiently  ambitious  plan.  It 
would  be  a  physical  impossibility  to  realise  it  for  the  whole 
period  before  October ;  but  I  mean  to  try  to  do  so  tolerably 
for  the  Ante-Nicene  period  (so  as,  if  possible,  to  bear  down  all 
competition),  treating  the  subsequent  centuries  superficially; 
meaning,  if  successful,  to  work  them  up  to  the  standard  of 
the  early  part  before  publication.  If  I  have  but  time,  I  think 
I  shall  be  able  to  make  a  serviceable  book,  but  the  reading 
required  is  prodigious.  All  in  Church  and  State  seems  hidden 
behind  a  thick  veil ;  no  one  can  guess  what  is  coming,  We 
have  been  this  term  occupied  at  Cambridge  with  two  successive 
lectures  on  '  Electrobiology,'  which  certainly  affords  most 
extraordinary  phenomena.  I  did  not  choose  to  pay  a  guinea 
to  be  taught  the  art ;  but  yet  I  succeeded  perfectly  up  to  a 
certain  point  with  a  gentleman  two  nights  ago. 


HARDWICK,  April  i^th,  1852. 

...  I  do  not  know  whether  the  Society  for  Promoting 
Association  has  itself  helped  the  strike,  but  suspect  not ;  I 
will  try  to  find  out  at  Cambridge  through  the  Macmillans, 
but  do  not  like  asking  Maurice  or  Kingsley  about  it,  as  I 
wish  to  avoid  the  subject  with  them  as  far  as  possible. 
Davies  tells  me  that  Maurice's  name  appeared  some  time 
ago  prominently  in  the  committee  of  an  Omnibus  Drivers' 
Association,  but  that  it  has  lately  been  withdrawn,  which  is 
somewhat  significant.  I  do  hope  the  Masters  will  now  use 
the  noble  opportunity  they  have  to  be  gracious,  and  show  that 
they  really  wish  to  treat  their  workmen  like  men,  though  they 
will  not  for  a  moment  tolerate  rebellious  dictation.  But,  I 
should  think,  the  time  can  hardly  be  far  off  when  Government 
will  really  think  the  commercial  fabric  of  the  country  not 
beneath  their  notice  and  government 


To  MR.  C.  H.  CHAMBERS 

CAMBRIDGE,  May  nth,  1852. 

.  .  I  send  you  two  'ghostly'  papers  ; l  you  can  have  more 
if  you  want  them,  but  I  find  they  go  very  fast,  and  the  750 
copies  which  we  printed  go  by  no  means  far  enough.  We  are 
promised  a  large  number  of  well-authenticated  private  stories, 
but  they  have  not  arrived  yet.  Our  most  active  members  are, 
however,  absent  from  Cambridge ;  to  wit,  Westcott  at  Harrow, 
and  Gordon2  at  Wells.  The  latter  says  that  Macaulay  is 
horrified  at  the  paper,  as  a  proof  how  much  '  Puseyism '  is 
spreading  in  Cambridge  !  and  some  other  eminent  Edinburgh 
Reviewer  (I  forget  who)  thinks  it  highly  unphilosophical  in  us 
to  assume  the  existence  of  angels — which,  by  the  way,  we  don't 
do  (for  our  classification  is  only  of  'phenomena'),  though 
I  don't  suppose  any  of  us  would  shrink  from  the  '  assump 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  nth  and  zist,  1852. 

My  dear  Westcott — I  can  hardly  believe  that  it  is  nearly 
six  weeks  since  I  saw  you  here ;  but  so  it  is,  and  I  must  not 
put  off  writing  any  longer.  My  vacation  was  curiously  broken 
up.  The  new  tubular  suspension-bridge  at  Chepstow  was  in 
process  of  being  got  into  its  place  (i.e.  the  tube  thereof),  and, 
thanks  to  the  several  steps  of  the  process,  and  the  numerous 
procrastinations  and  false  alarms  connected  with  each,  a  great 
number  of  hours  was  lost  from  enjoyment  of  home.  .  .  . 

During  the  vacation  I  distributed  some  eight  or  ten 
'  ghostly '  papers,  and  have  been  promised  some  narratives 
from  Scotland.  Blunt  showed  me  one  MS.  of  what  appears 
to  be  a  well-known  story  concerning  Lady  Tyrone;  the 
account  was  known  to  have  come  originally  from  her  family, 
but  the  paper  was  marked  as  copied  in  1805  (I  think),  and 
there  was  no  means  of  ascertaining  its  exact  parentage. 

1  i.e.  Prospectuses  of  the  '  Ghostly  Guild.' 
2  The  Hon.  A.  H.  Gordon,  now  Lord  Stanmore. 


I  left  a  paper  on  my  table  the  other  evening  when  the 
Ray  met  here,  and  it  excited  some  attention,  but  not,  I  think, 
much  sympathy.  Dr.  -  -  was  appalled  to  find  such  a  spot 
of  mediaeval  darkness  flecking  the  light  serene  of  Cambridge 
University  in  the  nineteenth  century.  There  were  also  grave 
smiles  and  civil  questions;  and  finally  several  copies  were 
carried  off.  .  .  . 

I  have  just  had  (May  2ist)  a  young  Tubingen  theological 
student  here,  who  came  bringing  an  introduction  from  a 
friend,  and  was  visiting  England  to  learn  something  about 
English  theology  and  English  Universities.  He  was  very 
intelligent  and  gentlemanly,  but  I  have  had  a  great  job 
in  describing  to  him  University  organisation.  Schleiermacher 
he  spoke  of  as  the  man  who  is  exerting  most  influence  in 
Germany.  Moral  questions  seem  intermixed  with  theology  in 
a  very  un-Whewellian  fashion.  He  says  that  even  the  most 
orthodox  care  nothing  for  the  theology  of  the  three  Creeds, 
even  where  they  accept  it ;  which  is  itself  rare  with  many 
whom  we  should  on  other  accounts  call  'orthodox.'  The 
great  problem,  he  says,  is  agreed  on  nearly  all  hands  to  be  the 
adjusting  of  a  Christian  faith  which  shall  touch  other  parts  of 
man  besides  his  mere  intellect.  One  would  think  that  they 
would  not  have  far  to  go  in  their  quest  before  finding  the 
thing  sought — if  only  they  could  learn  to  find  some  divine 
meaning  in  the  words  'Church'  or  'Creeds.' 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  2%th,  1852. 

.  .  .  The  '  Peelites '  do,  as  you  say,  seem  the  only  hope 
of  the  country,  but  more  minute  study  of  Gladstone's  speeches, 
etc.,  and  talk  with  Gordon  about  him,  have  made  me  doubt 
his  possessing  the  unity  and  harmony  of  mind  requisite  to 
make  him  a  second  Burke,  though  he  towers  far  above  nearly, 
if  not  quite,  all  our  other  'statesmen.'  Walpole  seems  to 
promise  something ;  this  ministry  will  at  least  have  achieved 
the  good  of  bringing  him  out.  Of  course  I  agree  with  all  you 
say  of  your  views  of  social  politics  (with  the  possible  exception 

AGE    24 



of  association — which,  however,  I  am  disposed  to  allow 
remedially  in  small  doses),  and  am  thankful  that  you  have 
reached  them,  though  I  felt  sure  it  would  be  only  a  question 
of  time. 

I  know  more  or  less  your  several  spots  of  halting,  having 
spent  some  weeks  at  Ryde  in  the  summer  of  '42  before  it  was 
made  a  semi-royal  watering-place ;  though  even  then  it  was 
dashing  enough.  Southsea  always  took  my  fancy ;  there  is 
something  so  jolly  about  that  comfortably  stout,  well-to-do 
castle,  squatted  independently  plump  on  the  flat  shore,  as  if 
the  architect  had  sent  it  down  with  a  pat  like  a  lump  of  stiff 
clay  or  putty.  The  teeth  of  Portsmouth  and  the  Solent  are  truly 
wonderful.  I  know  no  place  where  the  beaverism 1  (?)  of  the 
nineteenth  century  becomes  so  human  and,  as  it  were,  spiritual 
as  the  dockyard ;  all  is  stern  work  for  a  stern  purpose — no 
pomps  and  vanities  and  no  greediness  of  pelf.  I  confess  I 
didn't  like  Ventnor,  but  Bonchurch  is  perfection ;  and  now 
the  exquisite  loveliness  of  the  place  is  strangely  intertwined 
with  mournful  associations.  One  cannot  forget  poor  Sterling 
there,  and  Adams,  and  others  whom  I  cannot  recall  just  now. 
But  Bonchurch  is  not  genuine  Undercliff,  and  therefore  I  hope 
you  went  on  to  Niton ;  the  view  of  the  sea  and  shore  from 
the  beach  near  Black  Gang  Chine  is  grander  than  anything 
in  the  Island.  Alum  Bay  is  pretty,  but  a  mere  toy.  The 
Needles  and  Freshwater  cliffs  are,  however,  noble,  but  I  saw 
them  only  on  a  voyage  round  the  Isle. 


HARDWICK,  June  zgth,  1852. 

.  .  .  When  I  was  in  London  I  saw  the  Royal  Academy. 
The  pre-Raphaelites  (Millais  at  least)  are  past  description.  I 
was  disappointed  at  first  at  the  first  of  them  I  looked  at, 
Millais's  *  Huguenot,'  but  found  that  the  deficiencies  arose 
simply  from  his  scrupulous  and  honest  humility ;  he  can't  yet 
paint  a  background,  or  air,  or  distance  at  all,  and  so  he  doesn't 
try  it,  but  arranges  his  picture  so  as  to  get  rid  of  them,  and 

Word  nearly  illegible. 


place  all  in  simple  noontide  sunshine.  One  is  struck  at  the 
utter  absence  of  even  the  quietest  melodramatic  or  even  true 
attitudinising.  There  is  no  clinging,  no  convulsion.  The 
points  of  contact  and  union  are  simply  the  eyes,  and  the  faces 
as  ministering  to  the  eyes ;  and  further,  all  four  hands  are 
strained  to  the  utmost ;  the  girl's  two  at  the  two  ends  of  the 
white  badge,  the  man's  right  (which  passes  lightly  round  her  head 
and  his  own  left  arm,  not  embracing  her)  holding  the  loop  of 
it  from  being  drawn  tight,  and  his  left  smoothing,  or  rather 
pressing,  back  the  hair  from  her  right  temple  and  compressing 
her  head  at  the  same  time.  Neither  face  is  very  intellectual 
or  beautiful ;  both  are  common,  and  yet  both  people  on  whom 
one  could  lean  instinctively,  so  true  and  strong  and  tender  and 
free  from  all  frivolity.  Then  the  desperately  calm,  intense  (not 
at  all  violent)  look  of  her  uplifted,  quiet  eyes,  and  the  strange 
answer  which  his  face  gives ;  at  first  I  thought  that  he  rather 
pitied  and  despised  her  emotion,  but  really  loving  her,  tried  to 
look  concerned  in  the  midst  of  his  smile ;  but  I  did  him  cruel 
wrong.  He  is  intensely  moved  (though  not  a  whit  shaken),  but 
tries  to  put  on  a  calm  and  resigned  and  almost  cheerful  look 
for  her  sake.  So  thoroughly  human  a  picture  I  never  saw, 
full  also  of  the  deepest  and  purest  Wordsworthian  beauty. 
'Ophelia'  is  hard  to  describe,  but  it  is  scarcely  if  at  all 
inferior,  though  less  interesting.  It  is  indeed  like  the  beginning 
of  a  new  era  to  other  things  than  painting. 

It  is  very  pleasant  to  see  what  good  service  Gladstone  has 
been  doing  of  late  in  the  House  of  Commons,  but  I  fear  he  is 
damaging  himself  with  the  public. 


HARDWICK,  CHEPSTOW,  June  29^,  1852. 

.  .  .  Certainly  I  cannot  but  be  pleased  at  your  having 
bought  (and,  may  it  be  hoped?  read)  Maurice's  Kingdom 
of  Christ,  for  you  seem  to  me  to  have  misunderstood  his 
position  and  objects.  But  I  have  thought  for  years,  ist, 
that  he  is  intelligible  and  profitable  to  a  person  so  far  as 
that  person  needs  him,  and  no  farther;  2nd,  that  the  most 

AGE   24 



substantial  benefit  which  he  confers  is  that  of  enabling  us  to 
enter  into,  sympathize  with,  and  profit  by  the  writings  of 
others ;  in  short,  to  realize  truly  the  connexion  between  their 
sayings  and  their  selves.  Similarly,  he  seems  to  me  to  be  a 
most  acute  interpreter  to  us  of  our  own  confused  thoughts. 
You  will  therefore  easily  see  that  I  regard  him  as  a  man  to  be 
valued  and  loved,  far  more  than  admired  and  glorified. 

...  I  have  hardly  ever  come  into  contact  with  anything 
belonging  to  German  Theology  without  being  chilled  by  the 
way  in  which  it  seems  almost  universally  regarded  by  its 
warmest  cultivators  as  an  interesting  scholastic  speculation 
(Dr.  Abeken's  Babylon  and  Jerusalem  is  a  notable  exception), 
and  feeling  thankful  that  we  English  cannot  forget  that  the 
Truth  is  that  in  which  we  daily  live,  whatever  penalty  we  may 
pay  for  our  privilege  in  the  shape  of  theological  factions. 

...  It  will  not  do  to  get  too  discursive,  but  the  news 
papers  have  of  late  given  us  plenty  of  food  for  thought ; 
every  week  seems  to  bring  us  nearer  to  the  consummation, 
the  separation  of  Church  and  State.  Thank  you  very  much 
for  asking  me  to  come  to  you  at  Harrow.  I  do  hope  to  give 
myself  that  enjoyment  some  time,  but  I  am  going  to  be  at 
Cambridge  all  the  Long,  partly  for  Fellowship,  but  chiefly  for 
Hulsean,  which  I  am  very  anxious  to  do  serviceably. 


CAMBRIDGE,  August  $th,  1852. 

...  On  the  whole  I  am  not  sorry  at  being  thus  restricted 
to  the  Hulsean,  respecting  which  you  kindly  ask.  I  have 
roughly  completed  the  Chronology,  including  innumerable 
notes  or  dissertations  (for  appendices)  on  chronological,  his 
torical,  and  critical  points,  and  a  few  fragments  of  translations 
or  analysis ;  likewise  three  or  four  pages  of  the  Introduction, 
which  requires  very  delicate  and  cautious  treatment,  as  it  is 
mostly  on  the  subject  how  development  is  applicable  to  a 
revelation,  the  object  being  to  show  that,  in  spite  of  theological 
changes,  the  defences  made  by  the  Fathers  are  useful  to  us 



CAMBRIDGE,  August  6th,  1852. 

.  .  .  We  who  have  been  rovers  all  our  lives  have  per 
haps  no  great  right  to  urge  others  not  to  migrate ;  but 
even  gypsies,  I  suppose,  would  hardly  advise  all  the  world 
to  follow  their  vagabond  example.  I  have  been  anything 
but  shaken  by  lately  meeting  with  precisely  the  opposite 
advice  by  an  American,  who  says  that  "human  nature  will 
not  flourish,  any  more  than  a  potato,  if  it  be  planted  and 
replanted,  for  too  long  a  series  of  generations,  in  the  same 
worn-out  soil."  Can  you  imagine  a  more  cruel  insult  to  the 
poor  potato,  who  is  kept  by  transplanting  in  a  state  of  per 
petual  gout  for  our  benefit,  and  gets  twitted  when  he  tries  to 
get  back  to  his  natural  state  by  making  himself  a  home  ?  By 
the  way,  this  reminds  me  of  a  very  curious  discovery  (lately 
published  in  the  Gardener's  Chronicle)  made  by  some  French 
practical  botanists.  The  origin  and  native  country  of  our 
cultivated  corn  has  been  for  ages  a  question  of  great  difficulty. 
The  true  wheat  was  said  three  or  four  years  ago  to  have  been 
found  on  the  Altai  mountains,  in  the  heart  of  Asia ;  but  there 
appears  to  be  some  doubt  as  to  whether  it  was  not  even  there 
the  remains  of  old  cultivation.  But  these  botanists  have  been 
for  years  experimenting  on  the  cultivation  of  several  grasses, 
and  have  at  last  obtained,  by  sowing  and  resowing  from  two 
species  of  the  genus  sEgilops,  two  common  '  varieties '  ot 
wheat,  the  common  wheat  being  produced  from  SEgilops 
triticea  or  'wheat-like  SEgilops?  Some  botanists  are  in  a 
terrible  fright,  and  think  that  this  discovery  unsettles  the 
whole  foundations  of  the  science  of  botany;  but  that  only 
shows  how  vague  their  own  notions  of  science  are.  Thank 
you  about  the  bramble,  but  I  do  not  wish  it  cut,  even  for 
specimens,  which  could  be  obtained  at  Itton ;  what  I  wanted 
was  to  have  a  good  healthy  bush  near  home,  to  study  growing. 
I  felt  so  convinced  of  its  distinctness  from  all  well-known 
species,  that  I  gave  it  to  Babington  with  a  new  name,  but  told 
him  I  should  not  publish  it  till  I  was  more  familiar  with  it. 
I  am  glad  now  I  did  so ;  for  strolling  with  him  the  other  day 


in  the  Botanic  Garden,  I  came  on  some  brambles  grown  from 
seed,  some  of  mine  and  some  from  Mr.  Bloxam  in  Leicester 
shire  ;  among  the  latter  I  immediately  recognised  one  bush  as 
the  Monmouthshire  kind.  It  came  under  the  name  of  a  species 
which  has  always  puzzled  me,  having  seen  but  two  or  three 
dried  specimens ;  it  was  only  known  to  grow  at  Rugby.  So 
the  already  published  name  comes  in  very  conveniently  to  be 
joined  on  to  the  observations  which  I  had  made  independently. 
Babington  is  very  glad,  as  a  double  scandal  is  thus  avoided, 
ist,  of  describing  a  new  species,  and  2nd,  of  dropping  an  old 
one.  The  Orobanche  which  I  found  the  day  I  walked  with 
you  to  New  House  proves,  as  I  expected,  to  be  O.  ctzrulea. 
There  is  a  record  above  half  a  century  old  of  its  having  been 
found  somewhere  in  Glamorganshire  ;  but  it  has  been  doubted, 
as  it  is  known  to  grow  only  in  Hants,  Herts,  and  Norfolk. 
You  would  be  amused  at  the  duties  which  fall  to  me  this 
vacation  as  senior  bachelor  in  residence.  I  have  every  day 
after  dinner  to  order  second  course  for  the  next  (taking  with 
me  one  or  two  counsellors) ;  but  fortunately  the  cheapness  of 
fruit  renders  it  no  very  hard  matter  to  provide  for  our  table. 
One  of  my  colleagues  the  other  day  wished  for  Norfolk 
dumplings  ;  and  they  sent  us  up  dry  doughboys,  which  required 
to  be  cut  with  a  knife ! 

I  will  certainly  read  Forsyth's  life,  if  you  wish,  if  I  see  it 
again  ;  but  I  have  looked  into  it  before  two  or  three  times, 
and,  I  confess,  been  somewhat  repelled.  Pray  do  not  fancy 
that  I  think  I  do  not  want  such  '  spurs,'  or  set  myself  above 
them.  But  there  is  about  that  and  most  similar  books  an 
artificial  atmosphere  which  stifles  me,  and  makes  me  unable  to 
appropriate  the  genuine  good  which  is  there.  But  do  not  the 
less  believe  that  I  am  more  than  ever  your  affectionate  son, 



CAMBRIDGE,  August  i$tfi,  1852. 

...  On  the  23rd  I  got  a  line  from  Blunt  to  say  that  he, 
his  wife,  sister,  and  mother  were  in  town,  and  when  would  I 
go  and  see  them,  as  I  had  already  more  than  half  promised  to 

VOL.  I  Q 


do.  I  wrote  to  say  I  would  be  there  next  day  (Saturday), 
and  delightful  hours  those  forty-eight  were.  The  Chevalier 
Bunsen  had  pounced  upon  them  the  moment  they  were  in 
town,  and  been  as  kind  as  could  be  to  them ;  they  had  dined 
at  the  Embassy,  and  now  he  (Blunt)  had  to  call  there,  and  I 
called  with  him.  Luckily  the  Chevalier  was  at  home,  and 
so  we  had  a  most  cosy  and  friendly  chat  with  him  for  the 
best  part  of  an  hour,  mostly  about  his  book  (now  in  the 
press)  on  St.  Hippolytus,  and  in  fact  on  many  things  in  early 
Church  History  and  theology.  It  would  be  too  long  to  talk 
much  about  it  now ;  but  it  will  evidently  be  a  very  interesting 
book,  but,  I  fear,  sadly  heretical.  It  concludes  with  an 
'Apology  of  St.  Hippolytus  to  the  English  people,  at  the 
Great  Exhibition  of  all  nations,  May  1851.'  On  Sunday 
afternoon  Gerald  and  Julia  Blunt  and  I  walked  through  the 
thunderous  rain  to  Lincoln's  Inn,  and  had  the  usual  luxuries 
there  in  service  and  sermon  (on  the  mischief  of  compromise 
in  re  Protestantism  v.  Catholicism)  not  very  new  or  striking ; 
afterwards  I  had  just  time  to  shake  hands  with  Maurice  and 
introduce  Blunt.  In  the  evening  I  read  them  a  MS.  sermon 
of  Maurice's  (whereof  more  anon)  which  I  had  brought  with 
me  as  a  thing  which  they  would  like  to  see. 

On  the  2  Qth  I  went  with  Babington  and  Newbould  for 
thirty-six  hours  to  Newmarket,  to  explore  the  botany  of  the 
country  north  of  it. 

Maurice  has  written  and  is  revising  two  new  volumes  of 
sermons  on  the  Kings  and  Prophets.  He  sent  down  here 
the  first  six,  which  Macmillan  lent  me,  and  it  was  one  of 
them  I  took  to  London.  The  first  (on  Samuel  as  prophet, 
and  last  of  the  judges  anointing  the  first  king)  is  very  good 
and  beautiful,  with  a  strange  pathetic  apology  (so  I  take  it) 
for  himself  as  taking  part  in  things  which  he  dislikes,  because 
they  seem  part  of  the  coming  act  in  the  great  world  drama 
which  is  all  part  of  God's  order.  The  second  is  indescribably 
wonderful ;  it  literally  makes  one  quiver,  and  is  rich  in  poetry 
to  a  marvellous  extent ;  it  is  on  *  Saul  among  the  Prophets  '- 
in  short,  Saul's  life.  The  third  is  not  much  less  beautiful, 
on  David  before  his  accession.  The  fourth  also  good,  on 
David  as  king.  Fifth  not  so  good,  on  Solomon.  Sixth  ditto, 

AGE   24 



but  interesting  and  pregnant,  on  Rehoboam  and  the  schism 
in  the  tribes,  taken  as  a  type  of  all  schisms. 

I  am  not  in  a  very  comfortable  way  as  to  Fellowships. 
Against  me  there  are  in  my  own  year  Schreiber  and  Bea- 
mont,  both  medallists  and  therefore  '  senior  ops,'  one  above, 
the  other  equal  to  me  in  the  Tripos,  both  having  read  at 
least  quadruple  my  amount  of  classics.  In  the  other  year 
is  Lightfoot,  a  double  man  of  boundless  reading,  who  would 
have  got  one  last  time,  Thompson  said,  if  he  had  tried.  .  .  . 

I  am  getting  on  with  my  Essay  slowly  enough,  and  yet 
have  written  a  vast  deal ;  but  I  am  working  more  regularly 
than  I  have  done  since  I  have  been  at  Cambridge,  at  all  events 
since  my  first  term. 


CAMBRIDGE,  August  z^rd,  1852. 

.  .  .  Please  mention  your  Brighton  address,  as  I  want  to 
lose  no  time  in  writing  to  Henry  Bradshaw  of  King's,  whose 
mother  has  just  taken  a  house  there  in  permanence,  and  I 
want  to  put  in  a  line  asking  him  to  call  on  you.  He  is 
young  (between  his  second  and  third  year,  I  think),  but,  I  am 
inclined  to  think,  about  the  nicest  fellow  in  Cambridge. 

TO   THE    REV.    C.    KlNGSLEY 

CAMBRIDGE,  August  31^,  1852. 

Dear  Mr.  Kingsley — As  you  gave  a  gracious  reception 
to  the  notes  which  I  wrote  on  your  Dialogue  l  the  other  day 
at  Macmillan's  request,  I  make  bold  to  add  two  fresh  sug 
gestions.  No.  i  comes  from  Macmillan  himself,  who  is  far 
better  versed  in  Bohn's  translations  of  Plato  than  I  am  in  the 
original.  Surely  '  Euthyphron ' 2  is  a  bad  name  for  your 
ingenui  vultus  puer.  He  was  a  pxvrts  in  some  sense  or  other, 
a  pious  one,  who  thought  to  show  off  his  piety  by  prosecuting  his 
father  for  murder.  Either  '  Charmides  '  or  '  Glaucon '  would 

1  'Phaethon.' 

2  Apparently  the  name  first  chosen  for    the   interlocutor,   afterwards 
called  'Phaethon.' 


suit  you  exactly,  if  you  didn't  mind  their  beauty.  Glaucon  at 
the  beginning  of  the  second  book  of  the  Republic  does  very 
much  as  your  Euthyphro,  but  his  name  is  not  so  attractive  as 
the  others,  and  I  do  not  know  whether  his  age  and  that  of 
Alcibiades  agreed.  On  the  other  hand,  Charmides,  a  dear 
boy,  was  certainly  his  contemporary.  But,  if  beauty  is  a 
disqualification,  I  despair  of  finding  you  a  substitute  for 
Euthyphro.  Ugly  boys  were  rarities  in  Athens,  I  fancy. 
So  apparently  you  must  put  up  with  a  pretty  one,  and  drop 
the  disparaging  words.1  Suggestion  No.  2  relates  to  the 
Pnyx.  As  the  place  of  Assembly  was  on  the  N.E.  side 
of  the  Pnyx-hill,  Sunium  would  be  hidden  from  persons 
standing  there,  even  if  there  are  no  spurs  of  Hymettus  in  the 
way.  Further,  as  Sunium  is  due  S.E.  of  Athens,  the  sun 
could  hardly  rise  there ;  and  it  will  not  do  to  say  that  you 
do  not  mean  that  it  rises  exactly  over  Sunium,  for  then 
Hymettus  himself  is  in  your  way.  The  simplest  way  will  be 
to  say  nothing  about  Sunium.  By  the  bye,  the  regular  hour 
of  meeting  was  daybreak,  which  leaves  little  time  for  the 
Dialogue ;  but  the  passage  in  the  Acharnians  which  gives  the 
rule,  shows  likewise  that  the  magistrates  were  not  always 
punctual.  I  have  hardly  space  to  say  how  much  I  liked  both 
Dialogue  and  Prologue,  but  that  is  no  matter. — Ever  most 
truly  yours,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 

The  above  notes  are  perhaps  in  themselves  trivial 
enough,  but  any  who  in  later  years  sought  literary 
criticism  from  Hort  before  publication,  will  appreciate 
the  jealous  accuracy  of  which  his  friends'  no  less  than  his 
own  books  reaped  the  benefit.  More  serious  criticism 
of  the  finished  Dialogue  will  be  found  later  on. 


CAMBRIDGE,  September  i^th,  1852. 

...   I  have  never  read  the  Tracts  for  the  Times,  but  the 
perfect  clearness  and  keenness  of  Newman  always  gives  me 
1  This  appears  to  have  been  clone. 


pleasure  ;  at  the  same  time  it  is  rather  like  a  very  pure  knife- 
edge  of  ice.  I  believe  he  has  really  a  warm  heart,  but  he  has 
put  it  to  school  in  a  truly  diabolic  way. 

By  the  way,  have  you  read  Uncle  Torrfs  Cabin  ?  if  not,  do. 
I  cannot  at  all  understand  how  so  good  a  book  has  come  to  be 
so  praised.  If  you  saw  the  Times  review,  however  (which  is  an 
exception),  you  will  need  no  further  recommendation ;  it 
could  be  no  poor  or  trivial  book  which  could  stir  up  such 
deep  blasphemy  against  the  Holy  Ghost. 

I  once  spent  a  most  delightful  week  at  Lynmouth,  but  I 
enjoy  Ilfracombe  far  more.  I  do  hope  you  not  only  saw  it, 
but  encamped  there  for  some  days.  The  breezy  freshness, 
the  free  toss  of  the  wavelike  'Tors,'  the  swelling  hills  with 
woody  ravines  ending  in  such  sweet  combes,  and  its  rocky 
shore  with  transparent  pools,  full  of  the  richest  forms  of  life, 
give  it  for  me  a  charm  like  very  few  other  places. 


CAMBRIDGE,  September  26//z,  1852. 

My  dearest  Mother — Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  abstain 
from  calling  your  letters  'great  stuff'  till  you  obtain  leave 
from  me  ?  Not  that  I  am  likely,  I  hope,  ever  to  give  you 
leave,  but  that  makes  no  matter ;  one's  thoughts  and  one's 
sayings  do  sometimes  coincide ;  so  till  you  get  leave,  abstain. 
But  I  am  far  from  uninterested  in  your  details  of  household 
arrangements.  .  .  .  There  is  not  a  wide  sphere  here  for  me 
to  have  domestic  arrangements  in,  much  less  to  describe 
them,  gyps  and  bedmakers  being  only  charmen  (are  there  such 
beings  ?)  and  charwomen.  The  whole  family  consists  of  my 
self  and  my  books,  and  the  latter  are  very  silent  (so  indeed  is 
the  former).  I  had  the  other  day  seventy  volumes  of  them  on 
the  table,  more  or  less  in  use ;  but  as  the  libraries  close  on 
Wednesday,  I  shall  be  quite  deserted  then.  The  remaining 
member  of  the  family — that  marked  No.  i — has  been  attain 
ing  a  comparatively  wonderful  amount  of  regularity  and 
punctuality,  seldom  missing  Morning  Chapel,  taking  a  spunge 
bath  every  morning,  taking  constant  walks,  and  working  more 
steadily  and  continuously  than  for  several  years. 



CAMBRIDGE,  October  12th,  1852. 

My  dearest  Mother — Very  many  thanks  for  your  congratu 
lations,  which  are  not  the  less  welcome  or  valued  because  of 
their  seeming  limitation.  For  my  own  part,  I  value  the 
Fellowship l  chiefly  as  means  of  future,  even  more  than  present 
influence.  But  of  course  the  more  efficacious  it  is  in  that 
respect,  the  greater  is  the  responsibility ;  and  therefore  I  shall 
need  your  affectionate  prayers  more  than  ever, — and  I  know  I 
shall  have  them.  It  is,  as  you  say,  a  very  odd  feeling,  but 
the  prominent  one  is  increased  pride  and  interest  in  the 
College ;  but  the  charm  would  be  snapped  instantaneously  if 
I  thought  of  it  for  a  moment  as  anything  but  a  temporary 

The  Essay,  such  as  it  is,  must  be  sent  in  to-morrow  week. 
It  is  on  the  early  defenders  of  Christianity  against  heathens 
and  Jews  in  the  first  four  centuries. — With  much  love,  your 
affectionate  son,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 


CAMBRIDGE,  October  Wi  and  13^,  1852. 

.  .  .  You  evidently  estimate  the  event  2  as  I  do,  not  so 
much  as  an  honour  as  an  acquisition  of  a  vantage  ground 
from  which  whatever  message  may  be  committed  to  us  is 
likely  to  be  listened  to  with  more  attention.  But  it  makes 
one  tremble  the  more  lest  any  '  idle  words '  should  bring  dis 
credit  on  a  body  which  has  inherited  such  a  weight  of 
authority  earned  by  speaking  the  full  truth. 

I  have  got  the  Beitrage,  but  have  hardly  had  time  to 
look  at  them  yet.  But,  so  far  as  I  have  used  Credner's 
Introduction  (which  is  not  much),  I  can  quite  confirm  your 
high  opinion  of  him ;  and  his  abstinence  from  unnecessary 
verbiage  is  a  very  great  merit  indeed.  But  it  seems  to  me 

1  The  following  were  admitted  Fellows  in   1852  :  C.  Schreiber,  W. 
J.  Beamont,  F.  J.  A.  Hort,  J.  B.  Lightfoot. 

2  His  election  to  a  Fellowship. 



pretty  plain  that  well -trained  English  classical  scholars  are 
likely  to  become  much  better  sacred  critics  than  Germans. 
The  union  of  the  two  characters  seems  rare  in  Germany,  and 
not  usually  felicitous  where  it  does  take  place. 

You  must  have  misunderstood  me  about  Newman.  Many 
of  his  sayings  and  doings  I  cannot  but  condemn  most  strongly. 
But  they  are  not  Newman  ;  and  him  I  all  but  worship.  Few 
men  have  been  privileged  to  be  the  authors  of  such  incalcu 
lable  blessings  to  the  world  (though  perhaps  not  a  hundred 
acknowledge  the  fact),  and  therefore  few  have  had  his 
temptations.  Unhappily  the  hard-hearted,  scornful,  and  lying 
persecution  which  he  had  so  long  to  bear  did  its  work  upon 
him  but  too  effectually.  Still  even  now  it  were  most  wrong 
to  'confound  the  cry  of  agony  with  a  mocking  laugh,'  or 
rather  to  forget  how  both  may  be  mingled  in  the  same  sound. 


CAMBRIDGE,  November  14^,  \    g 
HARDWICK,  December  14^,  J 

My  dear  Ellerton — Time  passes  terribly,  and  it  is  with  no 
little  shame  that  I  see  your  last  letter  bears  date  exactly  a 
month  back.  One  thing  is  that  I  am  President  of  the  Union, 
and  debates,  private  business  meetings,  adjourned  private  busi 
ness  meetings,  library  committees,  standing  committees,  and 
private  consultations  about  all  manner  of  meetings  and  com 
mittees,  take  up  a  good  deal  of  time.  Likewise  I  have  begun 
to  take  pupils,  or,  to  speak  correctly,  a  pupil,  for  no  more  have 
come  to  me.  As  it  turns  out,  I  am  not  so  sorry  that  I  have 
no  more ;  for  he  is  a  good  one,  and  occupies  my  time  largely, 
I  have  to  make  so  much  preparation  for  him.  In  fact  I  am 
learning  Greek  far  more  rapidly  than  I  have  done  all  the  time 
I  have  been  up.  Then  C.  B.  Scott  and  I  read  Hebrew 
together  any  time  that  I  can  spare  on  Monday,  Wednesday, 
and  ^Friday  evenings.  On  Wednesday  there  is  the  Ray,  on 
Friday  our  musical  class  (in  which  we  are  singing  Beethoven's 
wonderful  Mass  in  C,  the  treble  of  the  accompaniment  of  the 
Kyrie  Eleison  of  which  I  played  (?)  to  you  in  a  manner  when 


you  were  here),  and  on  Saturday  the  'Apostles/  to  the 
college  of  whom  we  last  night  admitted  Farrar.  Further,  I 
have  been  constantly  correcting  the  sheets  of  Maurice's  Kings 
and  Prophets,  which  come  '  revised '  from  his  hands  in  the 
most  ludicrous  state  of  inaccuracy ;  I  am  sure  six  corrections 
a  page  would  be  under  the  average,  but  the  majority  of  these 
belong  to  punctuation.  You  will  now  be  able  partly  to  under 
stand  how,  not  having  yet  recovered  regular  hours,  I  have 
found  myself  short  of  time,  and  have  not  even  done  any  read 
ing  of  my  own  of  any  regular  kind. 

I  promised  to  give  you  some  details  about  the  Fellowship, 
but  really  there  is  very  little  to  tell.  In  Classics  Lightfoot 
was  of  course  first,  and  Benson  second,  chiefly,  I  believe,  from 
a  beautiful  translation  of  "  Then  quickly  rose  Sir  Bedivere, 
and  ran,"  in  Morte  d  Arthur,  into  Greek  Hexameters.  I 
gather  that  I  was  third  in  Classics,  but  I  am  not  absolutely 
sure ;  I  was  at  all  events,  Thompson  told  me,  quite  sure  from 
the  very  first  (which  was  said  of  no  one  else),  and  all  the 
early  papers  were  classical.  Mathematics  were  almost  zero 
to  me.  The  History  papers  were  so  absurd  (mostly  techni 
calities  about  modii,  rates  of  interest,  etc.)  that  no  one  but 
Beamont  did  respectably.  In  Philosophy  I  was  far  ahead  of 
everybody.  I  wrote  a  good  deal  on  one  question  about 
Natural  and  Artificial  systems,  to  be  illustrated  from  Botany, 
and  my  answer  seems  to  have  made  quite  a  sensation. 
Sedgwick,  I  hear,  has  been  talking  in  the  most  extravagant 
way  about  it,  saying  that  no  man  in  England  could  have 
written  such  a  one,  and  indignantly  trampling  on  somebody 
who  suggested  that  Henslow  might  write  as  good  a  one  ! !  ! 
Beamont  came  out  considerably,  and  did  very  much  better 
than  last  year;  he  was  next  to  me  in  Philosophy.  He  is 
gone  off  to  the  East  alone,  with  the  intention  of  making  his 
way  to  Mecca,  disguised  as  a  Mahometan  pilgrim  !  I  believe 
that  there  is  no  more  to  say  about  the  Fellowship  except  that 
I  was  elected  unanimously. 

My  Essay  went  in  on  the  2oth  (or  rather  A.M.  2ist)  at 
great  length,  but  in  a  singularly  imperfect  state ;  all  the 
period  from  Tertullian  to  Augustine  being  merely  a  cata 
logue  of  names  and  dates,  interspersed  with  fragments  and 

AGE    24 



critical  and  chronological  notes.  It  would  take  too  long, 
or  I  would  tell  you  the  extraordinary  hurry  in  which  it  was 
written  out,  greatly  increased  by  the  unexpected  arrival  of 
my  Bury  cousins,  the  Colletts,  to  be  lionised  over  Cam 
bridge  two  days  before.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  I  was  forty- 
eight  hours  out  of  bed,  and  that  E.  A.  Scott,  Bradshaw,  an 
hired  amanuensis,  and  myself  were  writing  for  the  bare  life 
in  my  rooms  continuously  from  half -past  7  P.M.  till  about 
6  A.M.,  and  to  some  of  us  that  was  only  the  finale.  I  meant 
to  have  gone  on  rapidly  with  it  this  time,  and  my  rooms 
are  full  of  books  for  the  purpose ;  but  I  have  had  no  time 
to  do  anything.  I  have  a  long  and  very  delightful  letter  to 
thank  you  for,  especially  for  its  account  of  Brighton  affairs 
and  your  doings,  of  which  I  am  quite  insatiably  greedy.  I 
am  afraid  I  must  have  talked  big  and  misled  you  when  you 
were  here,  for  I  really  know  very  little  actually  of  Church  His 
tory  •  I  only  know  of  regions  of  Church  History  which  are 
popularly  ignored.  The  sources  are  the  Fathers.  Eusebius 
himself,  the  Burnet  of  the  early  ages,  unmethodical  and  unfair, 
is  yet  full  of  interesting  information,  especially  in  his  numerous 
quotations.  But  after  all  it  is  very  hard  to  sit  down  regularly 
to  read  history  without  some  definite  object;  and  that  was 
one  great  object  I  had  in  attempting  this  Essay.  I  have  at 
least,  however,  gained  the  negative  advantage  of  ascertaining 
that  there  is  nothing  deserving  the  name  of  a  Church  History  in 
existence.  Neander  is  exceedingly  useful  as  a  handbook,  but 
he  is  very  unfair  in  his  own  demure  way,  besides  writing  no 
history  at  all,  properly  so  called.  I  forget  whether  when  you 
were  with  me  I  had  got  the  first  (and,  as  yet,  only)  volume  of 
Thiersch,  translated  by  the  Irvingite  Carlyle.  That  is  the 
nearest  approach  to  a  history  that  I  have  seen ;  and  a  very 
good  one  too,  being  learned,  sensible,  spirited,  and  orthodox. 
The  history  of  the  N.  T.  books  seems  excellent,  so  far  as  I 
have  looked  at  it,  and  know  the  subject ;  but  unluckily  the 
volume  does  not  go  beyond  the  Apostolic  age. 

My  thoughts  have  for  some  time  converged  towards  making 
Church  History  the  central  object  of  my  reading,  with  a  view 
perhaps  to  writing  a  great  history  years  hence,  especially  con 
taining  a  full  landscape,  foreground  and  background,  of  the 


times,  independently  of  religious  and  ecclesiastical  matters. 
But  the  necessary  preparation  will  be  enormous.  Indepen 
dently  of  the  entire  contemporary  literature  sacred  and  profane, 
and  all  the  principal  modern  comments  and  digests  of  the 
same  from  the  fifteenth  century  till  now,  I  shall  have  to  devote 
great  labour  to  discovering  and  constructing  an  accurate  view 
of  the  world  in  all  aspects  (especially  the  social)  before  the 
coming  of  Christ.  Independently  of  smaller  centres,  which 
become  very  important  in  subsequent  Church  History,  there 
are  at  least  five  large  distinct  heads — Rome,  Greece,  Judaism, 
Persianism,  and  Egypt.  Then  there  are  all  the  very  curious 
mixtures  of  these,  the  Graecising  of  victorious  Rome, — the 
multitudinous  effects  of  Alexander's  conquests,  as  the  Graecis 
ing  of  Persia,  resulting  in  the  stifling  of  the  old  faith  for  several 
centuries  and  the  rise  of  that  strange  Parthian  empire,  and  the 
Graecising  of  Egypt  under  the  Ptolemies  with  all  its  strange 
literature,  producing  Lycophron  and  Theocritus  side  by  side, 
— the  Jewish  mixtures  especially  in  Samaria  and  Egypt  and 
Leontopolis,  the  rival  Jerusalem  of  the  Egyptian  Jews.  Then 
there  are  all  the  minor  tribes,  many  of  them  Semitic,  of  North 
Africa,  Pontus,  Phrygia,  etc.,  and  their  mixtures,  especially  with 
Hellenic  culture.  All  this  will,  I  fear,  require  much  ethno 
logical  study.  Then  this  whole  state  of  things  arises  from  the 
fusion  of  decaying  powers,  which  must  therefore  be  studied  in 
their  youth  and  manhood ;  you  will  easily  see  how  much  is 
thus  rendered  necessary.  It  seems  to  me  that,  whether  I  write 
and  publish  or  not,  I  shall  have  to  work  up  three  distinct 
treatises  :  (i)  a  history  of  the  Jewish  nation  from  Abraham  to 
B.C.  300.  This  will  involve  all  the  questions  of  Hebrew  criti 
cism,  not  only  historical  but  philological,  and  thus  require 
study  of  the  whole  range  of  Semitic  languages,  not  only  the 
Aramaic  with  Syriac  and  Chaldee,  but  Arabic,  Persian,  and 
^Ethiopia  (2)  A  history  of  Greek  philosophy  from  Thales  to 
Aristotle's  immediate  disciples,  Theophrastus,  etc.,  paying 
especial  attention  to  the  ante-Socratics  (Pythagoras,  Hera- 
clitus,  and  Empedocles  in  particular),  and  trying  to  bring  out 
their  relation  to  their  unphilosophical  contemporaries,  especi 
ally  the  early  poets,  and  to  the  state  of  the  Greek  cities 
generally  before  the  corruption  of  the  fifth  century.  This  will 

AGE    24 



involve  imbuing  oneself  with  all  the  good  Greek  literature — 
a  pleasant  task  enough,  but  a  heavy  one.  (3)  A  history  of 
the  Hellenic  world  from  the  death  of  Alexander  the  Great 
to  the  birth  of  Christ.  This  will  be  almost  entirely  new 
ground;  the  materials  are  scanty,  and  politics  had  by  that 
time  reached  such  a  state  that  philosophy  and  religion,  such 
as  they  were,  must  form  the  main  element.  The  Trpoirapa- 
(TKevr)  evayyeAtKTJ  has  been  often  enough  touched  theologically 
for  theological  purposes ;  but  I  do  not  think  it  has  been 
attempted  with  any  fulness  with  a  genuine  historical  purpose ; 
yet  few  things  are  more  necessary  to  give  the  starting-point  of 
Church  History.  This  is  an  alarming  catalogue  of  labours, 
not  a  tenth  part  of  which  will,  I  suppose,  ever  be  realised. 
At  all  events,  these  dreams  are  between  ourselves;  anybody 
else  would  have  just  reason  to  laugh  at  me  for  them.  But 
they  may  at  least  give  some  little  purpose  and  method  to 

By  the  way,  I  was  immensely  taken  the  other  day  by  an 
exquisite  song,  words  and  music  one  inseparable  whole  ;  the 
latter  by  Schubert,  the  former  by  I  don't  know  whom ;  it  is 
called  'Einsam?  einsam?' 

Gordon  was  kind  enough  to  give  me  a  ticket  for  St  Paul's 
at  the  funeral,1  and  the  temptation  was  too  great  to  be  resisted. 
Unluckily,  though  near  enough  to  hear  everything,  and  well 
placed  for  seeing  such  of  the  procession  as  entered  the 
building,  I  was  hindered  by  one  of  Wren's  clumsy,  shapeless 
piers  from  seeing  the  '  area '  and  ceremony.  But  it  was  an 
infinite  pleasure  to  take  part  in  what  I  felt  to  be  the  real  fast 
and  humiliation  of  the  nation  for  all  its  sins,  and  solemn  ser 
vice  in  celebration  of  the  last  sixty-three  years.  It  is  no  use 
attempting  any  description ;  the  impression,  never,  I  hope,  to 
be  forgotten,  was  not  a  matter  of  words.  To  me,  perhaps, 
the  solemnest  part  of  the  whole  was  the  exquisitely  chanted, 
"  Lord,  Thou  hast  been  our  refuge  from  one  generation  to 
another,"  so  humble  and  quiet  and  prostrate  and  suppliant, 
finally  bursting  with  such  perfect  and  harmonious  sequence 
into,  "And  the  Glorious  Majesty  of  the  Lord  our  God  be 
upon  us  :  prosper  Thou  the  work  of  our  hands  upon  us,  O 
1  Of  the  Duke  of  Wellington. 


prosper  Thou  our  handy  work."  People  found  fault  with  the 
'  inappropriateness '  of  the  concluding  anthem  from  the  '  St. 
Paul,'  "  Sleepers  wake  !  a  voice  is  calling !  "  I  don't  know 
what  Milman  meant  by  it;  but  I  imposed  my  own  mean 
ing,  and  found  it  more  than  appropriate.  Dear  old  Blunt 
gave  us  a  very  nice  sermon  at  St.  Mary's :  the  beginning 
commonplace,  but  he  waxed  warm,  and  you  can  imagine  how 
he  honoured  such  a  kindred  spirit  as  the  Duke.  I  hope  you 
enjoy  Tennyson's  Ode,  which  I  hear  sadly  abused  here.  At 
first  I  could  not  make  it  out ;  the  words  seemed  nothing 
remarkable,  but  there  was  a  mystery  about  the  music  of  them. 
Another  reading,  however,  enabled  me  to  get  into  the  spirit  of 
them  and  feel  their  grandeur.  For  metre  I  know  nothing 
equal.  A  man  named  Evans  of  Emmanuel  has  got  Macmillan 
to  publish  some  more  than  respectable  sonnets  on  the  occasion. 
So  much  has  come  before  one's  mind  of  late  that  I  am  over 
whelmed  with  matter.  But  I  am  sure  you  must  have  been 
rejoiced  by  the  debut  (oh,  what  a  word  !)  of  Convocation,  and 
Hare's  delightful  speech  and  fraternization,  and  Thirlwall's 
perhaps  still  more  valuable  mediation  in  the  Upper  House. 
Trinity  shone  out  in  her  proper  place ;  it  was  pleasant  to  see 
Peacock  stand  up  so  manfully  for  dear  old  Mill.  We  owe 
much  thanks  to  S.  Oxon,  who  has  been  the  prime  mover  in 
the  whole. 

We  had  a  most  noble  commemoration  sermon  at  St.  Mary's 
from  Harvey  Goodwin  on  'Reasonable  Service.'  Think  of 
his  having  the  boldness  to  condemn  the  'cropping  and 
pollarding '  young  men  into  a  proper  clerical  state  of  mind  ! 
I  am  curious  to  hear  what  is  your  opinion  of  the  Restoration 
of  Belief  ;  I  fear  I  stand  alone  in  disliking  No.  2. 

You  will  be  much  delighted  with  Maurice's  Kings  and 
Prophets ;  they  take  quite  a  new  flight ;  but  I  suppose  you 
will  see  them  in  a  day  or  two.  I  am  anxious  also  to  see  the 
little  fugitive  volume  of  sermons  on  the  Sabbath,  etc.,  which 
Parker  is  publishing  for  him.  He  gets  on  very  slowly  with 
the  History  of  Philosophy,  but  prints  as  he  goes.  I  have 
seen  all  the  sheets  as  yet;  they  go  to  St.  Clement  of  Alex 
andria,  and  are  a  vast  improvement,  though  far  from  perfection. 
I  have  also  now  in  my  possession,  and  am  reading,  the  sheets 

AGE    24 




far  as  the 


new    Warburtonian 

differences,    and    part    of    the 

writings  of  SS.  Peter,  James,  and  Paul.  Have  you  seen 
M.  Arnold's  new  poems,  Empedocles  on  Etna,  etc.  ?  they  are 
full  of  genuine  beauty,  but  lack  strength  and  purpose,  and 
show  painfully  how  an  epicurean,  making  pleasure  the  chief 
good  (so  far  as  there  is  good  at  all),  does  virtually  annihilate  or 
sour  pleasure ;  in  a  way  very  satisfactory  to  me,  who  always 
contend  might  and  main  that  pleasure  is  a  good  and  divine. 


TO    THE    REV.    C.     KlNGSLEY 

HARDWICK,  CHEPSTOW,  December  15^,  1852. 
My  dear  Mr.  Kingsley — This  is  rather  late  to  thank  you 

for  '  Phaethon,'  *  but  you  must  excuse  one  of  my  procrastinating 
habits.  I  put  it  off  in  the  first  instance  with  the  intention  of 
writing  you  a  long  letter,  which  I  afterwards  resolved  to  spare 

you.     did  not  show  me  the  letter  which  he  finally  sent 

you,  but  I  saw  his  manuscript  notes  in  the  margin  of  his 
copy,  and  also  your  reply  to  his  letter,  besides  having  had 
abundance  of  talk  with  him  on  the  subject.  The  impression 
left  on  my  mind  exactly  coincides  with  what  I  have  long  felt, 
that  his  state  of  mind  cannot  effectually  be  reached  by  direct 
attacks  of  that  kind.  It  is  quiet,  incidental  observations  that 
really  sink  into  his  mind,  and  therefore  I  never  seek  con 
troversy  with  him,  but  am  always  ready  to  talk  freely  as  much 
as  ever  he  likes.  I  doubt  whether  you  realise  how  very 
deeply  his  scepticism  is  seated.  .  .  .  His  talk  brought  clearly 
before  me  what  might,  I  think,  be  expressed  more  fully  in 
the  Dialogue  with  advantage,  viz.  that  your  doctrine  finds  an 
antagonist  not  only  in  a  sophistical  habit  of  mind,  but  in 
the  honest  philosophical  (or  unphilosophical)  opinion  that 
words  ought  to  be,  if  they  are  not  always,  definite  labels  of 
definite  notions,  and  that  it  is  illogical  to  give  the  same 
name,  '  spirit  of  truth,'  to  the  vague  notion  with  which 
Alcibiades  starts,  and  the  notion  of  a  personal  Spirit  of  truth 
which  is  ultimately  arrived  at ;  and  that  no  argument  'drawn 

1  Sent  to  Hort  in  MS. 


from  the  accidental  coincidence  of  name  can  be  valid.  Now 
such  an  opposition  can  only  be  met  by  acknowledging 
candidly  and  distinctly  the  plausibility  and  prima  facie  prob 
ability  of  the  opinion  on  which  it  rests,  and  then  pointing 
out  how  nevertheless  the  instinct  of  mankind  (guided,  as  you 
or  I  would  say,  by  the  Divine  Word)  has,  consciously  or  un 
consciously,  discovered  and  recorded  in  language  affinities 
which  a  deliberate  logician,  making  language,  would  discard  as 
tending  to  confusion.  Again,  the  worshippers  of  '  subjective 
truth'  might  fairly,  I  think,  come  down  on  you  and  say, 
"All  your  arguments  to  prove  the  superiority  of  objective 
truth  will  be  pertinent  enough  when  you  have  shown  us  that 
it  is  within  our  reach ;  till  then,  forgive  us  for  holding  fast  by 
subjective  truth,  not  from  preference  but  from  necessity." 
You  give  the  true  answer  in  the  latter  part  of  the  Dialogue, 
by  saying  that  the  Spirit  of  truth  reveals  truth  to  men,  not 
that  they  discover  it  for  themselves.  But  I  think  you  do  not 
exhibit  the  relation  between  that  part  of  the  Dialogue  and  the 
earlier  with  sufficient  expressness.  If  I  am  to  cavil,  I  would 
say  that  you  are  throughout  rather  one-sided.  This  is,  I 
think,  the  respect  in  which  you  are  least  Socratic.  You  start 
with  a  certain  definite  conclusion  in  your  mind,  to  which  you 
conduct  your  interlocutors.  In  short,  you  and  your  Socrates 
are  entirely  teachers  of  what  you  have  learned,  and  not  fellow- 
learners  with  Alcibiades  and  Phaethon.  Now  in  Plato  we  are 
always,  I  think,  feeling  our  way  in  certain  distinct  lines,  which 
are  at  last  found  to  converge,  though  we  do  not  pursue  them 
(indeed,  he  could  not  lead  us)  to  the  point  of  convergence, 
but  are  made  to  feel  that  without  holding  securely  certain 
sound  clues,  we  shall  only  lose  our  way  in  speculation.  And 
forgive  my  expressing  a  wish  that  you  had  put  (as  I  under 
stood  you  intended)  a  word  or  two  of  qualification  into 
Socrates'  last  speech,  so  as  to  hint  that,  however  absolutely 
the  light  and  the  power  of  receiving  it  are  the  gift  of  God, 
there  must  nevertheless  be  a  corresponding  act  of  reception 
on  the  part  of  man — in  short,  that  he  has  the  awful  power  of 
refusing  to  receive  the  fullest  light.  You  asked  for  all  manner 
of  criticisms,  so  I  have  sent  them  without  scruple.  — 's  plea 

for  Emerson  himself  seemed  to  me  very  frivolous.     Emerson 


is  full  of  wise  and  beautiful  sayings,  but  they  no  more  grow 
in  him  than  holly  in  a  plum  pudding.  You  might,  perhaps, 
have  distinguished  more  clearly  between  Emerson  and  his 
ill-educated  but  far  from  'uncultivated'  sect,  though  you 
certainly  were  explicit  enough  for  most  readers'  comprehen 
sions,  and  your  main  drift  was  to  show  that  his  atheism 
implicitly  contains  and  must  issue  in  the  debasing  superstitions 
of  which  they  already  give  sign.  In  this  I  entirely  agree,  and 
had  (curiously  enough)  put  on  paper  a  similar  prophecy  the 
night  before  your  MS.  arrived.  By  the  way,  I  hope  you  will 
be  glad  to  learn  that  old  Dr.  Mill  praised  '  Phaethon '  without 
qualification,  ascending  through  a  climax  of  phrases  to  "A 
very  valuable  tract  indeed."  This  letter  has  somehow  spun 
itself  out  to  some  length,  and  all  about  '  Phaethon.'  So  I  will 
only  wish  you  and  Mrs.  Kingsley  and  all  your  belongings  a 
happy  Christmas,  with  all  the  blessings  included  in  it,  and 
remain,  very  affectionately  yours,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 

The  above  criticisms,  as  well  as  those  contained 
in  an  earlier  letter  (on  the  setting  of  '  Phaethon '), 
were  written  in  the  midst  of  heavy  work.  Kingsley 
was  very  grateful  for  the  suggestions,  "sent  straight 
to  me,  instead  of  twitting  me  in  a  review,  as  three- 
quarters  of  the  world  would."  The  criticism  of  more 
important  points  in  the  Dialogue  induced  him  to  stop 
the  press,  and  add  three  or  four  pages  to  his  work. 

In  1853  Hort  began  to  devote  himself  more 
definitely  to  work  on  the  lines  recently  laid  down 
for  himself.  But  unfortunately  interruption  came 
from  health.  A  troublesome  skin  disorder,  the  out 
come  probably  of  the  scarlet  fever  of  undergraduate 
days,  was  a  source  of  constant  vexation  now  and  for 
some  time  to  come.  It  led,  at  the  beginning  of  1853, 
to  his  trying  the  experiment  of  a  water-cure,  and  he 
spent  many  weeks  under  the  rather  irksome  condi 
tions  of  Umberslade  Hydropathic  establishment,  near 


Knowle.  It  was  during  these  weeks,  in  the  course  of 
a  walk  with  Mr.  Westcott,  who  had  come  to  see  him 
at  Umberslade,  that  the  plan  of  a  joint  revision  of 
the  text  of  the  Greek  Testament  was  first  definitely 
agreed  upon.  The  hydropathic  experiment  was  only 
a  partial  success.  In  April  Hort  returned  to  Cam 
bridge.  In  this  year  he  became  a  Major  Fellow  of 
Trinity,  and  took  his  M.A.  degree.  He  undertook 
some  MS.  work  in  the  University  Library,  and  was 
appointed  examiner  for  the  Le  Bas  Prize,  and  for  the 
Moral  Sciences  Tripos  of  1854. 

Meanwhile  his  circle  of  friends  widened  :  he  had 
interesting  letters  from  F.  W.  Robertson  of  Brighton, 
whom  he  only  knew  through  correspondence ;  he 
visited  Mr.  Augustus  Jessopp,  to  whom  he  gave 
literary  help  by  verifying  quotations  in  the  works  of 
Dr.  Donne.  Dr.  Jessopp  recalls  that,  two  years  later, 
it  was  Hort  who  introduced  him  to  Mr.  George 
Meredith's  poems,  a  volume  of  which  he  was  carrying 
in  his  pocket.  Through  the  '  Apostles '  he  now 
became  acquainted  with  Clerk  Maxwell,  afterwards 
one  of  his  greatest  Cambridge  friends,  who  in  this 
year  read  to  the  *  Apostles '  a  paper  with  the  char 
acteristically  baffling  title  of  '  Idiotic  Traps.' 

Early  in  the  year  Hort  had  thought  of  applying  to 
Archdeacon  Hare  for  a  curacy,  and  in  June  the  offer 
was  actually  made  through  Maurice,  whose  influence, 
however,  decided  Hort  to  remain  at  Cambridge  for  the 
present.  He  was  reading  for  Ordination,  for  which  the 
Bishop  of  Oxford  accepted  his  fellowship  as  sufficient 
title.  About  this  time  Mr.  Daniel  Macmillan  suggested 
to  him  that  he  should  take  part  in  an  interesting  and 
comprehensive  '  New  Testament  Scheme/  Hort  was 
to  edit  the  text  in  conjunction  with  Mr.  Westcott ; 




the  latter  was  to  be  responsible  for  a  commentary, 
and  Lightfoot  was  to  contribute  a  New  Testament 
Grammar  and  Lexicon.  Another  piece  of  work  came 
upon  his  shoulders  through  the  death  of  his  friend 
Henry  Mackenzie.1  He  was  of  the  same  standing  as 
Hort,  and  had  come  up  to  Trinity  after  a  brilliant 
course  at  Glasgow.  The  freshness  and  vigour  of  his 
mind  are  shown  in  many  delightful  and  humorous 
letters.  In  1851  his  health  had  begun  to  give  way, 
and  in  1853  he  died,  after  a  long  and  trying  illness, 
borne  with  splendid  courage  and  cheerfulness.  In 
1850  he  had  obtained  the  Hulsean  Prize  for  an 
essay  on  *  The  Beneficial  Influence  of  the  Christian 
Clergy  on  European  Progress  in  the  First  Ten  Cen 
turies.'  During  his  illness  he  employed  himself  in 
working  up  his  essay  for  publication.  He  was  busy 
with  it  till  the  last,  even  when  he  had  become  too 
weak  to  lift  by  himself  the  books  by  which  his  bed 
was  surrounded.  After  his  death  it  was  his  mother's 
wish  that  her  son's  work  should  be  prepared  for  the 
press  by  his  friend  Hort,  and  he  cheerfully  undertook 
the  charge.  Whewell  was  much  interested  in  it,  and 
highly  praised  the  language  of  the  essay.  Mackenzie 
had  compiled  an  enormous  mass  of  notes,  many  of 
them  intended  for  future  use,  and  not  as  immediate 
illustration  of  his  subject.  For  instance,  according 
to  his  editor,  his  notes  from  Bede  were  "  in  fact  a  most 
complete  analysis  of  everything  of  any  value  in  that 
author."  The  work  of  editing  proved  heavier  than  had 
been  anticipated,  and  the  essay  did  not  appear  till  the 
autumn  of  1855.  The  editor's  part  was  done  with 

1  Son  of  Lord  Mackenzie,  a  friend  of  Sir  W.  Scott  (see  Scott's 
Journal,  vol.  i.  p.  207,  etc.),  and  grandson  of  the  author  of  The  Man  of 

VOL.  I  R 


characteristic  care  and  devotion,  which  were  warmly 
appreciated  by  Mackenzie's  friends,  whose  only  com 
plaint  was  that  the  extent  of  Hort's  own  work  on 
Mackenzie's  notes  did  not  sufficiently  appear.  He  must 
have  verified  an  enormous  number  of  references.  One 
passage  from  his  introduction  to  the  essay  deserves  to 
be  quoted  :  "  Those  who  knew  Henry  Mackenzie  will 
recognise  these  last  few  words  "  (a  quotation  from  a  letter 
about  the  essay)  "  as  altogether  characteristic  of  his  mind. 
They  well  convey  his  hatred  of  all  special  pleading, 
most  of  all  in  defence  of  the  Faith  which  was  so  dear 
to  him,  along  with  that  trust  in  history  as  a  guide  to 
truth  which  is  happily  taking  possession  of  the  more 
thoughtful  men  of  England,  France,  and  Germany." 
This  sentence  shows  how  nearly  akin  was  Mackenzie's 
mind  in  some  important  respects  to  the  editor's  own. 

Maurice's  expulsion  from  his  posts  at  King's 
College  was  of  course  a  great  grief  to  Hort,  whose 
first  introduction  to  him  had  been  through  correspond 
ence  on  the  very  questions  on  which  Maurice's  position 
was  now  pronounced  to  be  heretical.  The  controversy 
needs  not  to  be  now  revived.  Hort's  chief  part  in  it 
was  the  circulation  of  an  address  of  sympathy,  which 
entailed  a  great  deal  of  correspondence,  and  over 
which  he  took  endless  trouble  and  care,  although  the 
terms  of  the  address  did  not  altogether  satisfy  him. 

In  the  winter  of  1853  the  Journal  of  Classical  and 
Sacred  Philology  was  projected,  and  in  1854  the  first 
number  appeared.  Hort  took  from  the  first  an  active 
part  in  establishing  this  useful  publication,  which  was 
described  by  one  of  his  friends  as  a  "  Kitto's  Theo 
logical  Journal,  Arnold's  Theological  Critic,  and  Dobree's 
Adversaria  all  in  one."  It  received  a  welcome,  amongst 
others,  from  the  Chevalier  Bunsen.  The  inception  of 




the  undertaking  was  due  to  Mr.  (now  the  Rev.  Pro 
fessor)  J.  E.  B.  Mayor.  The  project  was  warmly 
taken  up  in  Trinity,  especially  by  A.  A.  Vansittart 
W.  G.  Clark,  H.  A.  J.  Munro,  W.  H.  Thompson,  and 
E.  M.  Cope  also  helped  with  criticisms  and  sugges 
tions.  The  first  editors  were  J.  E.  B.  Mayor,  Light- 
foot,  and  Hort.  Hort  had  only  just  taken  his  M.A. 
degree,  and  Lightfoot  was  still  a  B.A. — a  striking 
recognition  of  what  was  even  then  expected  of  these 
young  scholars.  Hort  himself  wrote  largely  in  the 
Journal,  articles,  reviews,  and  notes  (see  Appendix  III.) 

Meanwhile  Hort  was  diligently  preparing  for  his 
Ordination.  This  was  with  him  no  mere  matter  of 
course,  required  by  the  existing  college  statutes  ;  the 
purpose  which  he  had  declared  when  a  boy  at  Rugby 
eight  years  before  seems  always  to  have  been  kept 
steadily  before  him.  The  careful  answer  which  he  gave 
shortly  after  his  own  Ordination  to  his  friend  Blunt's 
questions  about  the  nature  of  a  *  call '  to  take  holy 
orders,  is  sufficient  evidence  of  the  devout  deliberation 
with  which  he  had  himself  taken  this  step. 

In  the  summer  of  the  same  year  he  went  abroad 
for  the  first  time,  except  for  the  early  school-days  at 
Boulogne.  His  foreign  letters  show  an  extraordinary 
vigour  of  mind  and  body.  It  has  seemed  worth  while 
to  print  rather  long  specimens  of  them,  since  they 
illustrate  his  character  in  more  ways  than  one.  Not 
least  noticeable  is  his  assurance  that  his  family  and 
friends  will  care  to  enter  into  all  that  he  is  seeing  and 
doing.  He  did  not  shrink  from  the  trouble  of  writing 
two  or  three  elaborate  accounts  of  the  same  events, 
each  of  which  shows  that  he  was  all  the  time  consider 
ing  who  it  was  to  whom  he  was  writing,  and  in  which 
of  his  experiences  that  particular  correspondent  would 


be  specially  interested.  His  own  vivid  imagination 
enabled  him  thoroughly  to  enjoy  the  recorded  experi 
ences  of  others,  and  he  was  therefore  eager  to  share 
with  others  every  pleasure  that  fell  to  his  own  lot. 
In  the  last  year  of  his  life,  a  short  tour  which  I  took 
in  Greece  was  to  him  the  source  of  almost  as  much 
delight  and  excitement  as  if  he  had  been  himself  carry 
ing  out  the  long-cherished  desire  of  seeing  Delphi  and 
Athens,  instead  of  reading  of  them  on  a  sofa  at  home. 
After  this  year  health  generally  required  that  the 
time  available  for  foreign  travel  should  be  spent  in  the 
Alps.  Venice  he  saw  on  this  first  trip,  but  Florence 
and  Rome  not  till  thirty  years  later.  This  tour  lasted 
nearly  three  months.  Both  before  and  after  it  much 
time  at  Cambridge  was  taken  up  with  the  Library 
Syndicate — the  first  appointed — and  other  reforms  now 
being  discussed  in  the  internal  government  of  the 
University.  He  felt  much  anxiety  about  the  proposed 
changes  in  the  condition  of  the  Bachelor's  Degree,  and 
especially  about  the  proposed  introduction  of  a  Theo 
logical  Tripos.  On  this  subject  he  wrote  a  careful 
letter  to  the  Spectator,  defending  the  rejection  of  the 
Tripos.  He  also  printed  and  circulated  a  pamphlet 
on  what  he  considered  '  mischievous  measures,'  but 
acquiesced  in  the  scheme  which  was  eventually  adopted. 
The  reasons  for  his  dissatisfaction  will  better  appear  at 
a  later1  stage. 


LILLESHALL,  January  $th,  1853. 

.  .  .  The  christening2  passed  off  very  well  on  Sunday. 
Baby  behaved  with  the  utmost  fortitude,  though  the  water 
was  not  of  the  sweetest,  having  been  brought  from  the 

1  See  p.  275.  2  Of  Mr.  Gerald  Blunt's  first  child. 

AGE  24 



Jordan  in  a  small  flask.  There  was  at  first  some  doubt 
which  was  the  Jordan  flask  and  which  the  Dead  Sea  flask  ! 
You  would  have  been  amused  to  see  me  on  Friday  night 
at  the  Lilleshall  school  feast,  surrounded  by  some  dozen 
little  girls,  who  were  eagerly  being  puzzled,  and  in  turn 
puzzling  me  with  making  words  out  of  card  letters.  How 
ever,  we  got  on  famously.  Much  love  to  all,  specially  to 
yourself  for  to-morrow,  and,  I  hope,  many  happy  to-morrows. 
Ever  your  affectionate  son,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 


January  $th,  1853. 

My  dear  Mr.  Maurice — Let  me  at  once  thank  you  for  your 
Sabbath  sermons.  .  .  .  The  volume  was  very  delightful  to  me 
on  several  accounts  ;  on  this  especially,  that,  without  masking 
or  in  any  wise  glozing  over  a  single  conviction  which  it  was 
needful  for  you  to  utter  boldly,  you  have  avoided  giving  need 
less  offence  to  many  candid  and  reasonable  but  timid  readers. 
You  have  sometimes  seemed  to  me,  in  your  anxiety  not  to 
quench  the  smoking  flax  of  earnest  men  assailed  by  scepticism, 
to  have  been  too  careless  of  those  who  are  similarly  assailed 
by  pseudo-orthodoxy.  But  it  is  not  so  in  this  little  volume. 
The  latter  class  is  seldom  attended  to  but  by  merely  mis 
chievous  teachers ;  yet  it  is  a  very  large  and  important  one. 
I  have  been  often  astonished  to  find  how  honest  and  godly  a 
spirit  is  hidden  under  a  pharisaical  intellect  and  even  speech. 
Thousands,  I  suspect,  who  might  easily  be  led  into  the  fulness 
of  truth,  would  be  stopped  at  the  threshold  by  anything  which 
seemed  to  interfere  with  their  devotion  to  their  Bible  or  their 
Church,  as  the  case  might  be.  The  claims  of  sceptics  are 
beginning  to  be  acknowledged  (and  at  all  events  are  sufficiently 
canted  about),  but  it  will  be  no  less  necessary  to  recognize  the 
claims  of  the  orthodox.  .  .  .  But  to  return  to  your  book. 
.  .  .  There  is  another  view — what  some  people  would  call 
the  common-sense  view — which  you  hardly  meet :  .  .  .  surely 
there  are  numbers  in  all  classes,  really  needing  the  divine 


message,  who  would  be  tempted  away  by  pleasurable  excite 
ment  from  the  most  perfect  and  divine  preacher  of  it.  If  our 
lips  lost  all  their  coldness  and  insincerity,  there  would  still  be 
multitudes,  by  no  means  thoroughly  vicious,  who  would  not 
listen  to  them.  I  do  not  say  that  this  consideration  necessarily 
vitiates  your  conclusion,  but  it  ought  to  be  remembered.  .  .  . 
Of  the  perfect  truth  of  the  principles  you  have  laid  down  I 
have  no  sort  of  doubt.  I  hope  it  is  not  wrong  to  rest  un 
decided  about  their  application.  While  on  the  subject  I  may 
as  well  call  your  attention  to  a  suggestive  note  of  Dorner's 
(you  will  find  it  by  the  word  'Sonntag'  in  the  index:  mine 
is  the  second  edition),  which  I  was  looking  at  the  other  day ; 
it  illustrates  much  that  you  say,  and  connects  the  Sabbath 
with  a  thought  that  has  often  occurred  to  me,  how  important 
is  the  view  which  the  conflict  with  gnosticism  led  the  early 
Fathers  to  take  of  our  Lord's  life  and  ministry,  as  especially 
the  work  of  One  who  was  the  Creator.  By  the  way,  I  think 
you  will  find  that  the  modern  pharisaical  view  of  the  Sabbath 
mainly  dates  from  Constantine's  enactments  on  the  subject. 
This  ought  to  have  some  weight  with  religious  people. 

I  am  not  anxious  to  decide  too  hastily  whether  to  continue 
and  complete  my  Essay  on  the  Apologists  or  not.  It  might 
be  published  in  a  way  which  would  not  show  any  defiance  to 
the  Examiners  (let  me  observe  in  passing  that,  though  bigotry 
may  have  interfered  with  my  success,  the  very  fragmentary  and 
unfinished  state  in  which  the  production  was  sent  in  is  quite 
as  likely  to  have  stood  in  my  way).  And  it  would  be  affecta 
tion  to  say  that  I  do  not  think  it  contains  good  matter,  worthy 
of  being  published.  But  on  the  other  hand,  many  things  have 
long  been  leading  me  to  feel  that,  unless  I  receive  some 
clear  intimation  otherwise,  my  work  must  chiefly  lie  in  Church 
History,  especially  in  connexion  with  the  previous  and  con 
temporary  state  of  the  world.  So  that  a  good  deal  of  what  I 
have  now  worked  out  might  be  used  up  years  hence  in  other 
forms.  Still  I  confess  I  have  a  hankering  after  trying  to  say 
something  on  the  real  nature  of  Apologetics  •  and  the  historical 
seems  the  most  appropriate  and  effectual  form  to  use,  at 
all  events  for  me.  The  upshot  of  the  matter  is  that  I  shall 
probably  send  or  bring  you  my  rough  copy  of  the  MS.,  and 

AGE  24 



ask  you  to  look  at  it  and  give  me  your  advice,  though  I  can 
not  promise  explicitly  to  follow  it. 

I  am  staying  with  Blunt  for  a  few  days  for  the  baptism  of 
his  little  girl,  to  whom  I  am  godfather.  He  sends  kind  regards 
from  self  and  wife  to  you  and  Mrs.  Maurice.  .  .  .  All  manner 
of  best  New  Year's  wishes  to  yourself,  Mrs.  Maurice,  and  the 
boys  (who,  I  hope,  have  not  quite  forgotten  me). — Ever  yours 
affectionately,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 

What  a  pleasure  to  see  a  Government  expressly  repudiating 
any  '  interest '  or  party  ! 



UMBERSLADE,  January  ztyh,  1853. 

A  great  deal  of  time  will  necessarily  be  wasted  here, 
but  I  shall  never  lack  something  to  do,  having  brought  with  me 
my  botanical  books,  Origen  against  Celsus,  Tertullian's  Apology, 
Dorner  on  the  Person  of  Christ,  Tauler's  Sermons,  a  book  of 
Erskine's,  Thiersch's  Church  History,  Gk.  Test,  (and  have 
written  for  De  Wette's  Commentary),  Palgrave's  History  of 
Normandy,  Niebuhr's  Lectures  on  Ancient  History,  etc. 


UMBERSLADE,  February  \^th,  1853. 

.  .  .  The  failure  with  Hare  *  and  Maurice's  strong  request 
(for  such  it  is)  not  to  leave  Cambridge  form,  I  think,  a  very 
decided  call  to  me  to  give  up  the  curacy  idea  altogether 
for  the  present,  and  to  look  resolutely  at  Cambridge  as  my 
sphere  of  work  for  some  time  to  come.  Perhaps  I  ought 
to  add  my  Fellowship  (as  Maurice  does)  as  a  third  call ; 
but  1  don't  feel  that  so  strongly  as  he  does.  So  heigho !  my 
doom  is  lectures  and  chapels  and  gyps,  and  for  my  new 
master's  gown  to  get  rusty-fusty  by  brushing  against  dons  at 
the  high  table,  instead  of  being  scraped  by  rickety  pulpits 
in  the  effort  to  speak  the  words  of  life  to  men,  women,  and 

1  i.e.  to  obtain  a  curacy  at  Hurstmonceux. 


children.  Well !  that  too  has  its  blessings  and  advantages, 
especially  perhaps  for  me,  though  I  am  more  impatient  of  it 
than  most  would  be. 

Macmillan  wants  to  know  whether  you  have  heard  anything 
from  Bunsen  about  the  MS.  of  Muratori's  fragment  on  the 
Canon ;  but  I  told  him  the  Chevalier  had  not  been  at  Lilies- 
hall  for  ages. 

.  .  .  Bunsen  wrote  very  kindly  to  send  me  an  extract  from 
a  MS.  of  his  father  about  the  '  Star  of  the  Messiah,'  which 
he  had  mentioned  in  his  last  sermon  and  I  had  catechised 
him  about ;  and  also  to  comment  on  my  message  about 
Lachmann.  My  answer  was  a  long  and,  I  fear,  not  very 
temperate  onslaught  on  the  last-named  personage. 


BIRMINGHAM,  February  zoth,  1853. 

My  dear  Ellerton — Our  letters  have  somehow  become 
rather  angelic  in  their  frequency  of  late,  so  I  will  not  delay 
longer  to  give  you  some  account  of  this  place  and  the  rather 
peculiar  life  here.  .  .  . 

Maurice  is  going  to  preach  sermons  and  make  a  book 1  on 
Unitarianism,  from  money  left  him  some  time  ago  by  a  lady. 
And  he  is  hard  at  work  on  his  Warburtonians  and  History  of 
Philosophy.  I  have  seen  two  or  three  sheets  of  the  latter,  and 
much  of  the  former.  In  the  latter  he  describes  many  of  the 
Fathers — always  well  but  still  quite  imperfectly.  I  feel  more 
and  more  that  he  is  right  in  calling  his  books  collections  of 
hints.  But  they  seem  to  me  every  day  more  pregnant,  even 
where  one-sided. 


UMBERSLADE,  March  6th,  1853. 

...  I  have  only  looked  at  Visiting  my  Relations  enough 
to  make  me  wish  to  read  it,  without  caring  much  about  it.  I 

1  See  the  advertisement  to  Maurice's  Theological  Essays,  dated  May  24, 

AGE  24 



have  a  dreadful  suspicion  from  your  words  that  you  have  been 
misled,  like  many  others,  by  type,  etc.,  into  ascribing  it  to 
Helps  ;  but  any  one  page  ought  to  undeceive  you.  It  is  by  an 
old  lady  who  lives  at  Newmarket.  I  have  just  read  Esmond^ 
which  you  certainly  should  get  hold  of  as  soon  as  possible ; 
it  is  a  right  wise  and  noble  book,  though  not  one  in  a 
thousand  will  appreciate  it.  I  cannot  forbear  sending  you  a 
bit  which  I  copied,  as  strangely  echoing  what  I  have  so  often 
felt  and  uttered  to  you.  Please  send  it  back.  It  reads 
artificial  on  paper,  but  it  is  true.  I  hope  you  noticed  a 
review  in  the  Guardian  (last  but  three)  of  the  Heir  of 
Reddyffe.  The  extract  given,  a  scene  in  Switzerland,  makes  me 
long  to  read  the  book. 

UMBERSLADE  HALL,  BIRMINGHAM,  March  30^,  1853. 

My  dear  Bradshaw — I  have  been  intending  to  write  to  you 
nearly  every  day  for  the  last  two  months ;  but,  as  you  know 
something  of  the  multitude  of  my  intentions,  and  the  paucity 
of  the  accomplishments  thereof,  you  will  not  be  surprized  that 
I  have  not  written.  Gorham  or  Scott  will  doubtless  have  told 
you  how  it  is  that  I  have  been  absent  from  Cambridge  ;  so  I 
will  not  repeat,  but  only  add  that  I  am  getting  on  satisfactorily 
but  slowly.  .  .  .  But  I  am  far  from  dull  here.  I  have  many 
more  books  with  me  than  I  can  possibly  read,  and  really  do 
not  find  time  to  look  at  them  much.  Going  through  the  text 
of  St.  Paul's  Epistles  and  dabbling  in  Oriental  alphabets  are 
almost  my  only  work.  Baths  and  the  disciplinal  exercise 
before  and  after  baths  take  up  much  of  the  day ;  and  so  do 
billiards,  battledore,  and  (in  the  evening)  cards.  We  have 
also  abundance  of  music  of  all  kinds,  as  one  of  the  patients  is 
Miss  Stevens,  the  great  singer,  who  is  an  exceedingly  good 
performer,  and  is  never  tired  of  playing  or  of  helping  others  to 
sing.  So  that  we  often  get  up  something  like  quartetts  and 
choruses,  and  have  learnt  a  good  part  of  the  '  Elijah '  after  a 

You   and   Gorham    (but    especially   Gorham)    are    never 


sufficiently  to  be  anathematized  for  allowing  our  Cambridge 
music1  to  drop  in  that  disgraceful  manner.  I  cannot 
imagine  what  spirit  of  laziness  and  discord  can  have  possessed 

I  did  the  pilgrimage  to  Stratford-on-Avon,  but  felt  sadly 
unpoetic.  However,  it  was  a  real  pleasure  to  see  Shakspere's 
tomb  with  one's  own  eyes,  and  though  I  wrote  no  verses 
about  it,  I  trust  I  did  at  least  as  much  homage  as  those  who 
do.  ...  I  forgot  to  mention  that  Anglo-Saxon  is  one  of  my 
'intentions,'  and  I  expect  every  day  the  requisite  books  from 
Cambridge.  I  wish  you  would  learn  it  too  :  every  educated 
Englishman  ought  to  know  it.  If  you  see  Ellerton  (supposing 
him  to  be  alive,  of  which  I  have  my  doubts),  please  give  him 
a  dig  in  the  ribs,  and  let  it  be  a  severe  one ;  his  own  con 
science  will  tell  him  the  why.  Write  soon,  like  a  good  fellow, 
such  as  is  not  your  affectionate  friend, 


UMBERSLADE  HALL,  BIRMINGHAM,  April  igth,  1853. 

.  .  .  Hydropathy  has  done  me  some  good,  but  not  much, 
and  I  am  impatient  to  get  to  Cambridge  from  the  expense 
and  idleness  of  this  place.  I  have  not  seen  anybody  that 
I  know  except  Westcott,  whom,  being  with  his  wife  at  his 
father's  at  Moseley,  close  to  Birmingham,  a  fortnight  ago,  I 
visited  for  a  few  hours.  One  result  of  our  talk  I  may  as  well 
tell  you.  He  and  I  are  going  to  edit  a  Greek  text  of  the  N.  T. 
some  two  or  three  years  hence,  if  possible.  Lachmann  and 
Tischendorf  will  supply  rich  materials,  but  not  nearly  enough ; 
and  we  hope  to  do  a  good  deal  with  the  Oriental  versions. 
Our  object  is  to  supply  clergymen  generally,  schools,  etc.,  with 
a  portable  Gk.  Test.,  which  shall  not  be  disfigured  with 
Byzantine  corruptions.  But  we  may  find  the  work  too  irk 

1  i.e.  the  Choral  Club. 



teuMBERSLADE,  April  l^tk,  1853. 
.  We  have  been  having  abundance  of  pleasant  music 
Miss  Stevens  brought  over  the  other  day  from  Bir- 
0___im  Rossini's  *  Stabat  Mater,'  which  I  was  very  anxious 
to  hear,  being  puzzled  with  the  strong  opinions  expressed  both 
for  and  against  it.  However,  if  I  am  right,  the  discrepance 
is  easily  explained  :  it  seems  to  me  to  have  a  great  deal  of  very 
fine  music  in  it,  but  to  be  utterly  unspiritual,  and,  as  applied 

>to  these  words,  absolutely  blasphemous.  This  morning  we 
sang  one  of  the  least  inappropriate  movements,  the  In- 
flammatus,  with  the  chorus  In  die  juditii,  immediately  after 
having  gone  through  the  '  Mount  of  Olives,'  and  then  we  sang 
the  Kyrie  of  Mozart's  'Twelfth  Mass,'  and  you  may  imagine 
the  dreadful  earthiness  it  had  between  two  such  neighbours. 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  2$th,  1853. 

.  .  .  The  journey  to  Cambridge  would  not  have  been 
unpleasant  but  for  two  malefactors  who  smoked  weeds  (in  the 
strictest  sense  of  the  word)  of  genuine  home  growth.  And 
when  it  got  cold,  I  dared  not  shut  the  window  for  fear  of  being 
poisoned.  Ultimately  I  entered  Trinity  as  it  was  striking 
twelve,  after  a  more  delightful  day  than  I  have  had  for  months, 
or  am  likely  to  have  for  many  more.  I  lighted  my  fire,  made 
tea,  got  in  my  easy-chair,  and,  as  I  looked  at  the  backs  of  the 
critical  books  on  my  table,  came  with  bitter  decision  to  a 
conclusion  the  very  opposite  of  that  which  was  the  '  Professor's' 
under  similar  circumstances.  So  you  will  see  there  is  hope 
for  me  yet.  I  sought  in  vain  for  a  book  that  would  not  be 
discordant :  the  Psalms  would  hardly  do  with  one's  tea,  and 
ultimately  I  had  recourse  to  In  Memoriam  as  the  best  food 
I  could  find ;  but  still  one  wanted  some  moral  marmalade  to 
that  bread  of  tears  and  water  of  affliction. 



CAMBRIDGE,  June  $tk,  1853. 

...  I  am  very  glad  you  like  Bradshaw ;  I  have  certainly 
taken  a  great  fancy  to  him  ;  it  is  always  a  pleasure  to  be  with  him. 

Perhaps  I  may  go  on  with  the  Hulsean  Essay — indeed,  last 
night  I  analyzed  a  little  Origen  for  it — but  it  is  doubtful,  as 
the  labor  will  be  very  great,  and  perhaps  not  commensurate 
with  the  very  moderate  worth.  But  at  times  I  feel  vehement 
bursts  of  anxiety  to  finish  it,  and  say  my  say  on  divers  points 
of  history  and  of  Christian  Evidences,  which  I  should  shrink 
from  putting  in  any  other  form. 

Hare  has  just  been  made  a  royal  preacher.  I  hear  his 
reception  the  other  day  at  Hurstmonceux  on  his  return  with 
restored  health  was  most  delightful.  By  the  way,  while  I 
think  of  it,  I  should  mention  that,  as  a  compliment,  Peterbro' 
Deanery  was  offered  to  old  Sedgwick,  who  refused  it  by 
return  of  post. 

About  Mat.  Arnold  ...  I  know  few  finer  and  more  ex 
quisite  things  in  modern  objective  (i.e.  quasi-objective)  poetry 
than  Callicles'  final  song  and  some  other  parts  of  Empedocles. 
Tristram  and  Iseult  I  liked  less  at  first ;  but  I  read  it  to  the 
three  Blunts,  who  have  all  excellent  taste,  and  they  were 
enchanted  with  it,  and  I  have  come  pretty  nearly  to  their 
view  of  it.  I  know  nothing  of  Preciosa.  Margaret  Fuller 
is  a  wonderful  book — too  much  so  to  talk  of  now ;  it  has, 
I  hope,  made  me  more  charitable  to  America,  and  more 
thankful  for  elements  of  English  life  which  we  take  as  a  matter 
of  course  like  daily  bread  :  it  is  as  sad  a  search  for  freedom 
without  obedience  as  the  world  has  often  seen. 


CAMBRIDGE,  June  \^th,  1853. 

.  .  .  Cambridge  is  always  very  enjoyable  at  this  time  of 
the  year ;  and  I  have  been  wishing  that  you  could  see  it  now, 
to  take  away  the  hard  and  frosty  recollections  of  it  which  you 
seem  to  have  carried  away  from  your  last  visit.  One  is  never 

AGK  25 



tired  of  looking  up  or  down  the  narrow  aisle  of  tall  limes  at 
the  back  of  Trinity,  with  the  blue  sky  quivering  through  the 
delicate  green  young  leaves  at  the  top  of  the  long,  long  arch, 
and  the  huge,  cumbrous  old  horse-chestnuts  with  their  white 
spikes  (men  in  surplices  climbing  up  green  mountains,  as 
somebody  called  them)  seen  between  the  trunks  of  the  avenue. 
One  of  the  appurtenances  of  a  Fellowship  is  a  key  of  the 
'Roundabout'  or  Fellows'  garden  of  Trinity,  a  badly  kept 
place,  consisting  of  a  great  roundish  meadow  with  a  gravel 
walk  bordered  with  shrubs  round  it,  and  here  and  there 
straggling  beds  of  flowers ;  it  is  a  most  delightful  place  for  an 
after-dinner  stroll  in  this  colourless  region,  and  we  have  been 
revelling  in  its  lilacs,  laburnums,  and  barberries,  but  they  are 
fading  now.  Three  or  four  weeks  ago  we  had  plenty  of 
Daphne  Cneorum,  just  as  it  used  to  be  in  the  green  garden  at 
Leopardstown.  By  the  way,  I  do  not  think  I  have  told  you 
of  another  privilege  I  now  possess,  which  will  make  you  laugh  : 
I  can  walk  across  the  turf  about  the  College  without  being 
fined  half-a-crown !  The  College  is  nearly  empty.  I  have 
no  one  on  my  staircase,  and  to-day  we  were  but  four  at  table 
in  Hall.  Fortunately  one  of  these  is  Sedgwick,  who  has  but 
lately  been  released  from  his  duties  at  Norwich,  and  he  keeps 
everybody  alive. 


CAMBRIDGE,  June  iqth,  1853. 

.  .  Soon  after  I  left  you  in  London,  I  went  with  Babington 
to  pay  W.  H.  Stokes  (of  Caius)  a  visit  in  his  newly-occupied 
living  at  Denver,  just  out  of  the  fens  twelve  miles  below  Ely. 
You  know  he  was  one  of  our  Ray  fellows.  We  walked  and 
drove  to  divers  places  in  the  neighbourhood,  botanizing,  anti- 
quarianizing,  ecclesiologizing,  etc.  We  were  not  far  from  the 
scene  of  the  great  floods  of  the  winter  (indeed  there  was  a 
tolerable  lake  still),  and  the  sight  of  what  had  been  rich  corn 
fields  utterly  desolate  and  bedraggled  with  mud  and  rubbish, 
waste  and  useless  for  many  months  to  come,  made  a  stronger 
impression  than  I  could  at  all  have  anticipated. 

This  has  been  the  week  of  the  'Apostles"  dinner.     On 


Tuesday  I  went  to  London,  and  to  a  concert  of  the  Musical 
Union  at  Willis'  Rooms,  which  was  a  treat  indeed.  The  per 
formers  were  a  M.  Hiller,  pianoforte ;  Vieuxtemps  and  Goffrie, 
violins  ;  Blagrove,  viola ;  and  Piatti,  violoncello.  We  had  first 
an  exquisite  stringed  quartet  of  Haydn's,  full  of  sportive  fairy 
music ;  but  then  came  such  a  trio  of  Beethoven's  (piano, 
violin,  and  violoncello).  At  the  third  or  fourth  bar  one  was 
shivering  through  and  through,  yet  that  was  nothing  to  what 
came  soon  after.  The  second  movement  did  indeed  lift  one 
up,  I  don't  know  where.  There  were  the  vast  disadvantages  of 
being  alone  without  a  soul  that  I  knew  in  the  room,  of  the 
room  itself  being  much  too  large  for  so  small  a  body  of  sound 
so  subtly  modulated,  of  my  being  rather  far  off,  and  of  my 
unfamiliarity  with  the  music ;  but  still  there  was  a  taste  of 
heaven  about  it,  and  one  thought  that  after  all,  in  moderation, 
the  angels  with  their  harps  may  not  be  such  a  bore  as  they 
sometimes  appear, — at  least,  if  they  play  Beethoven.  Our  third 
piece  was  a  very  fine  quartet  of  Mendelssohn's,  which  it  was 
hard  to  do  justice  to  after  its  predecessor. 

Next  morning  I  got  to  early  service  (eight)  at  Lincoln's  Inn, 
waited  for  Maurice,  and  went  to  breakfast  with  him.  He  was 
in  excellent  spirits,  and  I  had  a  very  delightful  talk  on  many 
subjects,  which  I  prolonged  by  walking  with  him  to  Somerset 
House.  ...  At  last  we  got  to  dinner  (the  '  Apostles' '),  but 
it  was  rather  a  dull  affair,  our  numbers  being  small,  and  our 
best  members  wanting.  Maurice  had  to  preach  at  the  open 
ing  of  the  church  of  some  High  Church  friend ;  Thompson 
was  at  Ely,  being  made  a  canon  of  (i.e.  being  'bored,'  as 
somebody  explained  it) ;  Stephen  was  ill ;  Monckton  Milnes 
was  at  the  Queen's  state  ball ;  and  Trench,  Alford,  Blakesley, 
and  others  were  away  on  different  accounts. 

Next  morning  I  was  up  rather  late,  but  was  at  the  Exhibi 
tion  soon  after  twelve  by  appointment  to  meet  Ellerton,  who 
came  up  for  the  day.  We  went  carefully  over  all  the  chief 
rooms  of  the  Exhibition,  and  saw  it  very  well.  I  got  to  under 
stand  and  appreciate  the  Pre-Raphaelite  pictures  much  better 
than  on  the  former  day,  particularly  the  '  Proscribed  Royalist ' 
and  'Claudio  and  Isabella,'1  tho'  I  still  object  to  the  direc- 
1  By  Holman  Hunt. 

AGE  25 



tion  of  Isabella's  eyes.  Montague's  *  Children,  they  have 
nailed  Him  to  a  Cross,'  also  improved  much  on  acquaintance. 
Ellerton  and  I,  after  leaving  the  Exhibition,  went  into  the 
Green  Park,  and  sat  and  talked  there  till  it  was  time  for  him 
to  go,  and  then  took  a  boat  for  London  Bridge.  I  never 
was  at  that  London  Bridge  Station  before,  and  I  can't  say 
what  a  strange  thrill  it  gave  me  (and  I  daresay  will,  more 
or  less,  all  my  life)  to  see  it  and  be  in  it.  There  is  interest 
enough  in  its  being  the  gate  from  this  dear  confined  island  to 
the  mysterious  world  beyond  seas ;  but  it  was  naturally  linked 
in  my  mind  with  several  departures  for  the  Continent,  in  which 
I  have  had  a  deep  interest.  .  .  .  Next  morning  at  eight  I  re 
turned  hither.  And  now  you  have  a  full  account  of  all  my 
doings,  the  rest  of  the  time  since  I  saw  you  having  been  spent 
in  doing  nothing,  except  burrowing  in  the  libraries  among  MSS. 
The  other  day,  in  one  of  them,  I  came  upon  a  monkish 
couplet,  which  gave  me  a  rough,  savage  sensation  of  pleasure 
by  stirring  up  a  concentration  of  all  one's  antipathies  into  action 
against  itself.  Here  it  is  for  your  benefit — 

Femina  corpus^  opes,  animani^  vini^  himina,  vocetn 
Polluit,  anni/iilat,  necat,  eripit^  orbat,  acerbat. 

Could  more  atrocities  be  condensed  into  two  lines  ? 

By  degrees  I  am  getting  through  my  arrears  of  novels.  I 
have  finished  Villette  and  Ruth^  both  of  which  are  most  excel 
lent,  and  make  one  proud  of  one's  country.  I  know  scarcely 
any  book  equal  to  Ruth  in  holiness  and  tenderness.  Truly, 
we  parsons  have  no  monopoly  of  preaching  the  Gospel  nowa 
days.  Cyrilla  I  have  heard  abused  on  good  authority,  but 
the  four  chapters  which  I  have  hitherto  read  are  delightful, 
and  quite  equal  to  The  Initials}- 


CAMBRIDGE,  July  6tA,  1853. 

...  I  doubt  whether  I  have  mentioned  an  employment  which 
I  have  undertaken,  which  is,  along  with  two  or  three  others  - 

1  By  Baroness  Tautphoeus. 
2  The  most  active  of  these  was  C.  B.  Scott. 


(who  happen  to  be  friends  of  my  own),  to  examine  minutely 
and  form  a  catalogue  raisonnee  of  the  theological  Manuscripts 
in  the  University  Library.  At  first  I  began  en  amateur,  but 
am  now  formally  placed  on  the  committee  by  the  Pitt  Press 
Syndicate,  with  power  of  taking  out  MSS.  It  is  slow  and 
laborious  work,  but  often  very  interesting;  and  one  picks  up 
indirectly  a  good  deal  of  knowledge  which  may  be  of  great  use 
hereafter,  and  would  be  almost  impossible  to  acquire  in  any 
other  way. 


CAMBRIDGE,  /«£/  1  4^,  \     g 
BRIGHTON,  July  2$rd,    )       5->' 

.  .  .  Degree  time  was  very  pleasant  from  the  number  of 
old  faces  and  hands,  though  the  last  gathering  of  an  University 
'  year  '  for  the  lifetimes  of  most  of  its  members  is  rather  a 
gloomy  occasion.  Unluckily  -  -  asked  me  to  look  over  the 
proofs  of  his  Latin  Essay,  which  he  had  to  recite  in  the  Senate 
House  ;  and,  as  it  abounded  in  atrocious  blunders  from  first 
to  last,  it  took  me  from  twenty  to  thirty  hours.  -  came 

to  my  rooms  several  times  and  talked  very  pleasantly,  and  still 
more  so  when  we  strolled  out  in  the  warm  evening  and  wound 
in  and  out  among  the  flowers  and  green  turf  of  the  Trinity 
Roundabout.  He  seemed  overflowing  with  quiet  happiness, 
and  it  did  one  good  to  see  him. 

Three  or  four  weeks  ago  I,  after  divers  refusals,  accepted  an 
invitation  from  Jessopp  1  to  visit  him  and  his  wife  at  Papworth 
St.  Agnes,  not  far  from  St.  Ives,  from  Saturday  to  Monday.  I 
went,  and  stayed  till  Tuesday,  and  have  not  often  had  three 
pleasanter  days.  On  the  Tuesday  they  drove  me  over  to 
Cambridge,  as  Jessopp  wished  to  join  me  a  little  in  collating 
MS.  in  our  Library;  so  we  spent  the  afternoon  collating, 
while  Mrs.  Jessopp  looked  out  references  in  St.  Gregory  in 
another  part  of  the  Library,  and  then  we  went  to  dinner  in 
my  rooms  ;  but  lo  and  behold  !  my  bedmaker  was  not  aware 
of  my  arrival,  and  had  not  appeared  ;  so  there  was  the  dinner 
waiting  and  no  preparation  made  for  it  !  Luckily  we  found  in 

1  Now  the  Rev.  Augustus  Jessopp,  D.D. 

AGE  25 



my  cupboard  a  tablecloth,  some  bread,  four  knives,  and  some 
teaspoons.  So  I  lighted  a  fire  to  warm  the  plates,  and  then 
rushed  off  to  the  nearest  friend's  rooms  in  quest  of  forks, 

spoons,  and,  above  all,  salt.  I  arrived  first  at 's,  and  burst 

in  upon  him  as  he  was  sitting  over  his  wine  with  a  prim 
Oxford  Fellow  of  Magdalen.  However,  there  was  no  help  for 
it  but  to  explain  my  strange  mission,  and  I  bore  off  in  triumph 
the  needful  plate  and  salt  wrapped  up  in  scribbling  paper.  At 
length  we  got  to  dinner ;  it  was  a  scrambling  affair,  a  kind  of 
domestic  picnic,  but  far  from  unpleasant,  as  both  my  guests 
entered  fully  into  the  fun  of  the  thing,  and  made  themselves 
useful  in  divers  ways. 

A  large  proportion  of  our  year  seemed  to  have  taken  unto 
themselves  wives  and  babies,  though  they  seemed  shy  of  bring 
ing  them  up  for  '  the  year '  to  see.  So  that  I  felt  more  than 
ever  like  what  Sedgwick  gave  the  other  day  as  the  definition 
of  a  Fellow  to  a  French  guest  of  his,  who  had  supposed  us 
to  be  '  eleves  —  in  fact,  a  kind  of  professeursj  —  namely,  '  a 
Protestant  monk,'  a  frere,  and  no  more.  However,  there 
was  hope  in  our  good  vice-master's  further  explanation  that 
we  differed  from  French  monks  in  being  allowed  to  marry. 
"What!  can  your  Feloes  marry?"  "Oh  yes!  exceedingly," 
shouted  old  Sedgwick,  in  great  excitement,  adding  soon  after 
with  equal  energy,  "  A  man's  thought  a  most  wretched  fellow, 
if  he  doesn't  marry  when  he  leaves  us  !  "  You  may  imagine 
my  amusement  at  the  whole  scene ;  but  the  dear  old  *  Feloe ' 
evidently  spoke  feelingly. 

I  got  a  line  from  Maurice  saying  that  he  had  just  been  at 
Hurstmonceux,  where  Hare  asked  him  if  he  could  recommend 
a.  curate.  Maurice  mentioned  me  "as  at  least  possible,"  and 
Hare  "was  evidently  much  pleased,"  and  "begged  him  to 
make  me  the  offer,"  "  which,"  says  Maurice,  "  I  do  accordingly." 
"  If,"  he  proceeds,  "  you  have  made  up  your  mind  to  stay  at 
Cambridge,  I  shall  think  you  are  doing  very  right ;  but,  if  you 
wish  for  a  curacy,  Hurstmonceux  has  certainly  many  recom 
mendations,"  etc.  etc.  I  wrote  by  return  of  post  how  much  I 
was  tempted  by  the  offer,  but  gave  the  substance  of  my  letter 

to   you ;    but    said 

VOL.  I 


I    still    thought    it    my  duty  to  stay  at 
I    had   some   decided   call    to   leave   it, 



and  I  could  not  consider  such  an  offer  as  such,  however 

I  had  to  lionise  and  help  a  pleasant  young  German,  Dr. 
Osiander,  who  came  accredited  by  Maurice  and  Bunsen,  being 
sent  over  by  the  German  Orientalists  to  see  the  contents  of  the 
Arabic  MSS.  in  England.  I  took  him  to  Power,  and  got  him 
access  to  the  valuable  Arabic  MSS.  of  the  University  Library, 
where  he  found  much  of  interest,  and  talked  of  coming 

I  am  glad  you  enjoy  Ruth.  I  understand,  and  perhaps 
partly  agree  with,  your  objection,  which  I  have  heard  before. 
The  best  answer  to  it,  I  think,  is,— that  Mrs.  Gaskell  does  not 
mean  to  say  that  Ruth  did  not  know  she  was  sinning.  You 
must  remember  that,  when  she  entered  the  carriage,  she  thought 
she  was  going  to  be  driven  home^  and  Mrs.  Gaskell's  delicacy 
has,  perhaps  not  wisely,  allowed  us  to  see  nothing  whatever  of 
her  till  two  months  later,  in  Wales.  That  Ruth's  conscience 
had  not  been  silent  is,  I  think,  clearly  implied  in  many  of 
her  subsequent  thoughts  and  sayings.  My  own  feeling  is  that 
no  sin  can  be  so  great  but  that  circumstances  may  reduce  the 
guilt  to  a  very  small  remnant,  and  no  sin  so  small  that  any 
amount  of  circumstances  can  altogether  take  away  its  guilt. 
Now  Mrs.  Gaskell's  object  primarily  was  to  show  how  the  fall 
of  a  creature  like  Ruth  could  take  place  easily  and  naturally 
without  any  great  previous  moral  depravation,  and  how  many 
natural  and  harmless  circumstances  tend  in  such  cases  to 
diminish  the  guilt.  Perhaps  it  is  better  as  it  is  \  but  my  com 
plaint  would  rather  be  that  she  has  not  put  her  case  strongly 
enough.  That  any  so  tempted  should  ever  keep  from  falling 
is  to  me  one  of  the  most  stupendous  of  miracles :  I  wonder 
how  many  of  us  men  could  so  stand. 

To  THE  REV.  G.  M.  GORHAM 

HARDWICK,  CHEPSTOW,  September  i^th,  1853. 

...  I  hope  that  meanwhile  you  have  been  getting  on 
swimmingly  with  the  Hulsean.  I  should  have  been  glad  to 
have  been  of  any  service  to  you,  but  really  I  have  known  but 

AGE  25 



little  (and  fear  I  have  mostly  forgotten  that)  beyond  the 
chronology  of  some  four  or  five  select  Bishops  of  Rome,  or 
rather  some  points  in  their  chronology,  for  I  have  never 
worked  even  that  out  to  completion.  With  the  first  two  or 
three  Bishops  of  Rome  (and  their  relation  to  St.  Peter)  and 
the  history  of  the  other  sees  I  have  hardly  meddled  at  all, 
though  hoping  to  study  them  well  some  day  or  other.  But 
the  subject  is  far  more  extensive  than  it  looks  at  first  sight. 
The  best  book,  I  imagine,  is  Rothe's  Anfdnge  der  Christlichen 
Kirche,  which  has  not  been  translated ;  and  Ritschl  and 
Bunsen  (not  Hippolytus,  but  Ignatius  von  Antiochien  und  seine 
Zeit\  not  to  mention  others,  should  be  consulted,  though  of 
course  not  to  the  exclusion  of  others,  such  as  Pearson,  Dodwell, 
Pagi,  etc.  But,  after  all,  the  whole  labour  may  be  superfluous, 
for  the  last  book  that  I  read  before  leaving  Cambridge,  Mr. 
Shepherd's  so-called  History  of  Rome  (which  seems  to  be 
written  to  show  that  it  has  no  history,  as  Daille  wrote  On  the 
Use  of  the  Fathers,  to  show  that  they  were  of  no  use),  left  two 
serious  doubts  sticking  in  my  mind — (i)  whether  Rome  ever 
existed,  and  (2)  whether  there  were  ever  any  Bishops  of 
Rome.  The  second  doubt  must  be  left  for  future  considera 
tion  ;  the  first  I  am  inclined  to  embrace  at  once,  as  it  would 
save  one  a  world  of  troubles  and  annoyances  of  all  kinds,  and 
Dr.  Cumming's  occupation  would  at  once  be  gone.  However, 
I  suppose  the  'vested  interests'  will  prevent  that  desirable 
consummation  from  being  accepted  as  credible. 


CAMBRIDGE,  October  24^,  1853. 

...  I  spent  yesterday  at  Harrow  with  my  friend  Westcott, 
and  came  back  this  afternoon,  or  rather  evening,  after  a  very 
pleasant  visit.  I  was  very  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  seeing 
Harrow,  the  new  Rugby.  No  one  can  doubt  its  excellencies, 
but  it  rather  disappointed  me,  and  is  certainly  in  some  respects 
unequal  to  Rugby.  In  the  morning  Rendall 1  preached  a 
most  excellent  sermon  in  the  School  Chapel.  ...  He  came 

1  The  Rev.  F.  Rendall,  Hort's  first  classical  tutor  at  Cambridge. 


in  in  the  evening  to  see  me,  and  talked  with  much  kindness 
and  interest.  In  the  afternoon  Dr.  Vaughan  preached,  and 
pleased  me  much.  After  chapel  we  walked  up  to  see  the 
noble  church,  which,  as  I  daresay  you  know,  is  beautifully 
placed  on  the  top  of  a  hill  rising  abruptly  on  all  sides  but 
one  from  the  great  plain  of  London,  and  the  view  is  so  exten 
sive  that  I  could  see  the  Crystal  Palace  at  Sydenham  across 
London  on  one  side,  and  Windsor  Castle  on  the  other,  though 
it  was  not  a  very  clear  day.  Between  services  we  took  a  stroll 
with  Bradby,1  an  old  Rugby  friend  of  mine,  a  late  scholar  of 
Balliol,  who  has  likewise  become  a  master  of  Harrow;  and 
talking  to  him  at  Harrow  seemed  really  to  recall  Rugby  days. 


CAMBRIDGE,  October  31  st,  1853. 

...  I  must  write  you  a  line  to  tell  you,  if  you  do  not  know 
it  already,  that  Maurice  was  expelled  from  King's  College  by 
a  vote  of  the  Council  on  Thursday  last.  They  met  a  fortnight 
earlier,  when  the  correspondence  between  him  and  Jelf,  which 
has  been  going  on  all  the  Long,  was  placed  printed  in  the 
hands  of  the  members  to  digest.  Gladstone  and  Anderson, 
who  were  unavoidably  absent  Thursday  last,  wrote  to  the 
Council  earnestly  pressing  them  to  delay,  but  in  vain :  Jelf 
would  not  allow  him  even  to  lecture  on  English  literature  the 
next  day.  He  was  condemned  exclusively  on  the  last  Essay, 
Jelf's  charges  being — (i)  that  he  "  threw  a  cloudiness  about  the 
meaning  of  the  word  'eternal'";  and  (2)  that  he  seemed  to 
tend  towards  the  belief  that  the  wicked  might  perhaps  find 
mercy  at  last, — or  words  to  that  effect.  All  the  correspondence 
is  printed,  but  I  have  seen  only  Maurice's  last  letter  to  Jelf; 
the  whole  will  be  published  in  a  few  days.  That  letter  is 
crushing.  I  fear  he  loses  ^500  a  year  at  one  swoop,  which 
he  can  ill  afford,  but  it  remains  to  be  seen  whether  any  one 
will  have  the  courage  to  give  him  a  living  or  institute  him. 
He  has  no  idea  whether  the  Bishop  of  London  will  take  any 
further  step  against  him  in  propria  persona.  My  own  feeling 

1  The  late  Rev.  E.  H.  Bradby,  D.D. 


is  that  a  considerable  number  of  High  Churchmen  will  support 
him.  On  the  first  head  he  only  repeats  Plato's  doctrine,  which 
Augustine  lays  down  in  the  most  emphatic  terms  in  the  Con 
fessions  ;  on  the  second  he  goes  no  further  than  is  implied 
in  prayers  for  the  dead. 


CAMBRIDGE,  November  ^th,  1853. 

.  .  .  First  of  all  I  must  give  you  some  details  of  the  sad 
event  which  is  haunting  my  mind  incessantly.  All  the  Long 
Maurice  and  Jelf  have  been  having  a  correspondence  about 
the  former's  Essay  on  Eternal  Life  and  Death.  When  it  had 
reached  a  certain  point,  crowned  with  Jelf's  final  charge,  they 
agreed  that  the  whole  should  be  printed,  as  containing  all  that 
Jelf  had  to  say  against  him.  Maurice  in  like  manner  was  to 
write  and  print  a  final  answer.  These  two  documents  were 
placed  in  the  hands  of  the  King's  College  Council,  at  their 
first  meeting  for  the  term  yesterday  three  weeks,  at  which 
meeting  great  altercation  is  said  to  have  passed  between  his 
friends  and  opponents.  They  took  a  fortnight  to  read  and 
digest,  and  yesterday  week  met  again.  Having  heard  that 
they  considered  his  tone  to  Jelf  disrespectful,  he  appeared 
before  the  meeting  to  say  that  in  this  matter  he  stood  to 
Jelf  not  in  the  relation  of  inferior  to  superior,  but  of  ac 
cused  to  accuser.  Jelf  made  some  euphuistic  reply,  and 
Maurice  retired.  The  result  of  the  meeting  was  a  vote  for 
Maurice's  expulsion  from  both  his  Professorships.  What  the 
majority  was  is  not  known.  A  statement  in  the  papers  that 
Gladstone  was  the  only  dissentient  is  pure  fiction,  proceeding 
from  a  violent  letter  in  the  Morning  Herald,  in  which  this 
statement  was  made  rather  doubtfully,  as  a  belief.  Both 
Gladstone  and  James  Anderson  were  unable  to  be  present, 
and  both  wrote  strong  letters,  intended  to  be  shown  to  the 
Council,  most  strongly  protesting  against  unseemly  haste  in  so 
solemn  a  matter,  and  urging  them  on  no  account  to  come  to 
a  vote  that  afternoon ;  but  their  exhortations  were  vain.  On 
the  receipt  of  the  minutes  of  the  Council,  Maurice  wrote  to 


the  secretary  to  ask  whether  the  Council  wished  him  to  continue 
at  his  post  till  a  successor  should  be  appointed ;  Jelf  sent  back 
a  message  that  he  would  never  be  allowed  to  deliver  another 
lecture  in  King's  College.  And  so  the  matter  stands.  Jelf  s 
publication,  i.e.  the  correspondence  with  later  footnotes,  if 
not  out  already  in  London,  will  probably  be  out  to-morrow ; 
Maurice's  publication,  i.e.  his  final  letter  to  Jelf,  also  with  a 
few  notes  and  an  explanatory  preface,  will  be  out  soon  after. 
You  shall  have  them  as  soon  as  they  are  both  out.  I  have 
seen  the  original  of  the  latter,  which  is  a  masterpiece  of  calm, 
clear,  controversial  writing ;  it  will  be  an  historical  document  to 
future  Church  historians.  ...  I  hear  that  Maurice  included  in 
his  first  letter  to  Jelf  (which  is,  of  course,  printed)  a  verbatim 
copy  of  the  greater  part  of  his  letter1  to  me.  Indeed,  his 
whole  defence  seems  to  have  been  an  expansion  of  that  letter, 
with  an  indignant  repudiation  of  Universalism,  although  that 
is  just  the  charge  for  which  most  people  suppose  he  has  been 
condemned.  I  ought  to  add  that  Jelf  (and,  I  believe,  the 
Council)  urged  Maurice  to  resign  quietly,  but  he  positively 
refused,  denying  that  a  professor  at  King's  College  could  be 
subjected  to  any  test  of  orthodoxy  beyond  the  Creeds,  Prayer- 
book,  and  Articles,  all  of  which  he  cheerfully  accepted. 
Maurice  desires  every  one  to  know,  therefore,  that  it  was  an 
expulsion.  The  first  public  intimation  of  the  fact  was  a 
paragraph  in  the  Morning  Herald,  stating  that  unbounded 
indignation  at  the  dismissal  prevailed  in  King's  College  and 
elsewhere.  Next  day  appeared  the  letter  I  have  mentioned, 
protesting  against  the  paragraph.  There  was  also  a  pretty 
good  article  in  the  Chronicle  on  Maurice's  behalf,  but  written  in 
ignorance  that  the  vote  was  already  past.  .  .  .  The  Record  you 
will  doubtless  have  seen,  as  also  its  extracts  from  the  Morning 
Advertiser.  I  send  you  the  Guardian^  which  writes  under  a 
misapprehension  of  facts,  but  is  very  kind  and  generous; 
pray  note  also  O.  P.'s  extravagant  but  noble  letter.  The 
English  Churchman^  misapprehending  the  real  charge,  expresses 
kind  regret  at  a  result  which  they  approve,  but  awaits  the 
publication  of  documents.  These  are  all  the  public  notices  I 
know  of.  A  letter  from  Sir  J.  Stephen  to  Macmillan  says  it 
1  See  pp.  116-123. 

AGE  25 


has  caused  no  small  stir  in  London.  Here  Hardwick  and 
Harvey  Goodwin  seem  to  give  a  kind  of  neutral  adhesion  to 
Maurice.  My  own  feeling  is  that  a  large  proportion  of  High 
Churchmen  will  stand  by  him  :  I  am  sure  they  will  mainly 
agree  with  him.  If  they  speak  out,  an  immense  good  will 
indeed  arise  out  of  this  present  evil,  and  we  shall  have  one 
more  proof  how  the  antient  Catholic  faith  is  the  only  one 
really  capable  of  meeting  the  wants  of  the  age.  Meanwhile  it 
is  a  time  of  great  anxiety  for  us  all.  The  feeling  seems  general, 
that  the  matter  will  have  to  be  tried  before  the  Bishop  of 
London  as  Bishop  of  London,  and  ultimately  before  the  higher 
courts,  and  God  only  knows  what  the  end  will  be.  ...  General 
indifference  seems  to  prevail  here,  though  divers  individuals  are 
deeply  interested.  Plans  of  testimonials,  etc.,  have  been  talked 
of,  but  will,  I  hope  and  think,  come  to  nothing :  unless  they 
carried  the  weight  of  names  of  known  and  established  ortho 
doxy,  they  would  be  worse  than  useless;  but  I  think  every 
one  who  is  grateful  to  Maurice  ought  to  send  him  a  line  of 
sympathy  privately.  Kingsbury,  whom  I  regard  as  by  far 
Maurice's  ablest  and  most  intelligent  theological  disciple,  has, 
I  rejoice  to  say,  written  most  warmly  and  energetically. 

Now  for  your  letters.  I  rejoice  to  hear  of  the  pony :  it 
will  be  the  thing  of  things  for  you.  Something  physical  of 
the  kind  is  excellent  to  let  off  one's  steam.  Football  is  good, 
and  fighting,  and  dancing  (such  as,  I  hope,  the  Church  of  the 
Future  will  see  and  foster) ;  but  under  existing  circumstances 
a  gallop  across  country  must  be  not  a  bad  substitute,  and,  in 
spite  of  my  own  incapacity,  I  quite  enter  into  Kingsley's 
praise  of  the  moral  worth  of  hunting. 

I  am  bound  to  say  that  I  never  met  with  a  purer  and 
holier  mind  than  Novalis'.  He  is  always  fundamentally 
reverent  in  treating  of  mysteries,  but  he  is  fond  of  mysteries, 
and  of  comparing  one  with  another,  and  that  the  English 
mind  habitually  is  not.  He  is  certainly  no  atheist,  but  a  warm 
Lutheran,  with  perhaps  a  faint  Romeward  hankering;  but, 
like  every  great  mystic,  has  a  considerable  infusion  of  what,  if 
carried  out,  would  amount  to  Pantheism  ;  and  being  a  Ger 
man,  a  philosopher,  and  a  poet,  he  is  especially  open  to  that 


...  I  suspect  you  are  too  anxious  to  find  '  plain '  enough 
texts.  I  don't  know  any  really  plain  subjects  in  the  Bible  :  the 
plainness  should  lie  in  the  treatment.  I  can't  now  discuss 
Maurice's  doctrine  about  the  Resurrection,  etc.  Much  seems 
to  me  good.  .  .  .  Carlyle's  Cromwell  is  certainly  not  such 
pleasant  reading  as  his  Sterling,  but  is  still  very  valuable  and 
interesting  j  remember  that  it  is  not  a  biography  but  a  series 
of  documents,  '  with  elucidations.'  My  Novel  I  have  not  yet 

I  have  undertaken  to  edit  poor  Henry  Mackenzie's  Hul- 
sean  Essay  (who  died  at  last  some  three  weeks  ago)  for  his 
mother,  and  she  wants  it  to  be  out  by  Christmas,  if  possible. 
I  went  down  and  spent  a  Sunday  with  Westcott  at  Harrow 
very  pleasantly,  and  saw  divers  old  friends.  We  came  to 
a  distinct  and  positive  understanding  about  our  Gk.  Test, 
and  the  details  thereof.  We  still  do  not  wish  it  to  be  talked 
about,  but  are  going  to  work  at  once,  and  hope  we  may 
perhaps  have  it  out  in  little  more  than  a  year.  This,  of  course, 
gives  me  good  employment.  I  have  likewise  University  MSS. 
work,  Trinity  Library  MS.  work,  ordination  work,  Apologists 
work,  and  general  reading,  so  am  tolerably  occupied. 

Love  to  your  wife  and  to  the  thing  with  the  dear  little 
hands. — From  your  ever  affectionate  friend, 



CAMBRIDGE,  November  $th,  1853. 

.  .  .  Your  query  about  the  Moral  Sciences  Examinership 
I  partly  answered  last  week.  It  will  certainly  take  some  read 
ing,  though  not,  I  hope,  an  exorbitant  amount,  the  subjects  I 
shall  chiefly  have  to  look  up  being  Political  Economy  and 
General  Jurisprudence.  But  my  present  plan  (in  which  I  am 
much  encouraged  by  the  friends  here  whom  I  have  consulted) 
is — (i)  not  to  confine  myself  to  the  special  books  or  divisions 
embraced  in  the  Professor's  lectures,  but  to  take  my  questions 
from  the  subjects  at  large,  with  a  preference  for  such  as  bring 
out  principles  of  general  application;  and  (2)  to  try,  according 

AGE  25 



to  the  original  idea  of  the  Tripos,  to  bind  the  five  sciences 
together  by  asking  questions  which  bear  on  the  mutual  con 
nexion  of  the  sciences,  and  the  joint  application  of  them  to 
practice  in  actual  history.  This  will  be  an  innovation  upon 
the  doings — I  cannot  speak  of  a  custom^  where  there  have 
been  but  three  examinations — of  my  two  predecessors,  who 
have  contented  themselves  with  cramming  into  one  paper 
questions  on  the  special  subjects  of  five  sciences,  similar  and 
supplementary  to  those  of  the  Professors.  But  I  feel  sure 
that  the  change  will  be  generally  approved.  I  was  somewhat 
amazed  and  amused  two  days  ago  to  be  told  that  I  had  just 
been  elected  a  member  of  the  Council  of  the  Philosophical 
Society.  Fortunately  the  inspection  of  papers  is  rather  of  a 
routine  kind,  for  otherwise  there  would  be  something  ludicrous 
indeed  in  my  sitting  in  judgement  on  Augustus  de  Morgan's 
mathematical  disquisitions,  which  form  a  large  proportion  of 
our  papers. 


CAMBRIDGE,  December  nth,  1853. 

...  I  hope  you  got  the  pamphlets  about  dear  Maurice's 
sad  affair.  It  is  too  long  to  talk  much  about  now ;  but  you 
will  be  glad  to  hear  that  at  the  second  meeting  (at  which  the 
vote  of  censure  was  passed)  Gladstone,  who  moved  an  amend 
ment,  was  not  the  only  opponent  of  Jelf ;  indeed,  at  the  first 
or  preliminary  meeting  there  was  great  fighting,  but  between 
whom,  I  have  not  heard.  At  the  third  meeting  the  Bishop  of 
Lichfield  and  Milman  formally  protested  against  the  rejection 
of  Maurice's  protest  and  appeal.  Others  (e.g.  Judge  Patteson) 
were  also  on  his  side,  but  how  far,  I  know  not.  Edition  2nd, 
greatly  altered,  is  just  coming  out ;  he  will  publish  the  new 
preface  and  last  Essay  separately.  The  former  I  have 
seen,  and  it  is  a  most  beautiful,  dignified,  gentle  piece  of 

Last  week  I  wrote  to  S.  Oxon,  asking  his  leave  to  be 
ordained  in  Lent,  and  I  have  had  a  very  kind  letter  of 



HARDWICK,  CHEPSTOW,  December  31^,  1853  ; 
January  3n/,  1854. 

.  .  .  You  will  doubtless  have  been  following  with  interest 
the  incidents  of  Maurice's  expulsion  from  King's  College, 
which  took  place  just  after  I  left  you. 

...  I  have  been  astonished  at  the  small  number  of  even 
thoughtful  men  at  Cambridge  who  were  able  to  recognise  the 
distinction  between  time  and  eternity.  The  prevalent  idea 
seemed  to  be  that,  right  or  wrong,  Maurice  had  invented  it  to 
meet  a  particular  case.  No  one  seemed  to  enter  into  the 
impossibility  of  a  theology,  or  of  the  existence  of  a  spiritual 
world,  without  it.  Thompson  was  the  only  one  I  met  who 
knew  that  it  was  to  be  found  in  Plato.  I  do  not  know  what 
you  will  say  to  an  address  which  is  being  circulated ;  you  shall 
have  a  copy  when  I  get  some  more ;  Thompson  says  that  Dr. 
Vaughan  is  going  to  sign  it. 

What  a  sad  loss  dear  old  Mill's  death  is.  I  was  looking  at 
his  hair,  with  less  of  gray  in  it  than  my  own,  last  term,  and 
thinking  how  long  we  were  likely  to  have  his  services,  and 
how  much  we  should  need  them. 

...  I  believe  it  is  since  my  very  pleasant  visit  to  Harrow 
that  Whewell  asked  me  to  take  the  additional  examinership  of 
the  Moral  Science  Tripos,  which  involves  a  good  deal  of 
reading  and  other  trouble;  but  I  am  not  sorry  to  have  an 
opportunity  of  doing  something  to  widen  and  deepen  the 
Cambridge  study  of  the  subjects.  Scott  also  induced  me  to 
take  the  Le  Bas  Examinership.  .  .  . 

There  has  been  however,  in  one  way  or  another,  quite 
enough  to  take  up  my  time  and  prevent  me  from  making  much 
progress  with  the  Greek  New  Testament.  But  what  I  have 
done  has  been  pretty  efficiently  done. 

...  I  forgot  to  tell  you  I  saw  a  tempting  bramble  on 
Harrow  Hill,  thought  I  would  cut  it,  thought  I  hadn't  time, 
went  on,  came  back,  caught  a  vehicle,  got  a  lift,  and  so  was 
in  time. 



HARDWICK,  January  2Otk,  1854. 

...  I  believe  in  writing  to  you  last  time  I  passed  over 
your  queries  about  my  fears  respecting  Convocation.  I  have 
not  time  now  to  explain  myself  fully,  but  I  must  say  a  word 
or  two.  It  seems  to  me  that  many  who  clamour  for  Con 
vocation  speak  of  that  as  the  Church's  rightful  government, 
and  as  if  she  had  no  government  now.  Now  this  seems  to 
me  a  direct  denial  of  the  apostolical  constitution  and  polity, 
of  which  Convocation  forms  no  part.  Practically  our  bishops 
may,  through  inability,  cowardice,  overwork,  etc.  etc.,  have 
ceased  for  the  most  part  to  govern ;  but  they  are  there,  and 
their  functions  are  there,  and  may  be  revived.  They,  and 
subordinate  officers  deriving  authority  from  them,  have  alone 
paramount  authority  in  the  Catholic  Church.  The  authority 
of  a  representative  and  democratic  assembly,  derived  from  the 
wills  of  individual  members  and  not  from  Christ's  ordination, 
is  anarchic  except  so  far  as  it  is  subordinate  to  that  of  the 
successors  of  the  Apostles.  Moreover,  in  the  early  Church 
synods  were  assembled  at  particular  periods,  whether  rare  or 
frequent ;  they  never  formed  a  regular  standing  part  of  the 
Church's  constitution.  This  I  do  not  urge  as  a  reason  why 
they  should  not  practically  become  such  now ;  there  are  many 
reasons  why  they  should.  I  only  protest  against  their  inter 
fering  with  the  apostolic  rule.  Many  High  Churchmen  seem 
dangerously  disposed  to  think  of  bishops  merely  as  '  channels 
of  grace,'  not  as  rulers,  and  to  exalt  the  presbyterate  against 
them ;  and  of  this  I  have  a  great  dread.  About  the  mode  of 
election  I  have  not  thought  much ;  but  of  course,  whoever 
might  be  the  electing  power,  the  commission  would  be  equally 
apostolic.  Guizot  however  seems  to  have  confused  them 
grievously  in  his  European  Civilisation.  Edward  Strachey's 
book  I  have  not  yet  seen,  but  want  to  see. 

I  am  getting  on  with  my  paper  for  the  Moral  Sciences  Tripos, 
which  gives  me  a  good  deal  of  trouble ;  ordination  also  takes 
up  my  time.  I  am  working  through  Pearson  on  the  Creed  for 
the  first  time,  and  am  much  struck  with  its  clear,  sound  logic 


and  the  marvellous  scholarship  of  the  notes.  When  this  is 
done  (besides  Bible  and  Gk.  Test),  Hooker's  fifth  book, 
Augustin  de  Doctrina  Christiana,  Butler's  Sermons,  and  Burton 
and  Blunt  await  me ;  so  that  S.  O.1  gives  his  candidates  quite 
enough  to  do.  Indeed  his  Christmas  papers  included  Mediaeval 
Church  History,  which  is  rather  too  bad. 

One  book  I  have  lately  read  with  the  most  thorough  delight, 
the  Heir  of  Redclyffe ;  I  don't  think  anything  has  so  stirred 
me  since  I  read  Yeast  in  Fraser.  Yet  the  contrast  is  most 
singular.  It  is  a  most  convincing  sign  of  the  thorough  depth 
and  geniality  of  the  Catholic  movement  in  England ;  its  main 
deficiency  (if  so  it  may  be  called)  is  the  absolute  ignoring  of 
all  the  perplexing  questions  in  theology  and  morals  which  are 
now  being  stirred, — in  short,  it  is  bread  without  yeast.  But 
the  perfectly  Christian  and  noble  Theodicee, — the  true  poetical 
justice, — is  beyond  all  praise. 

I  am  very  anxious  to  hear  what  you  think  of  dear  Maurice's 
sad  business.  In  spite  of  all  the  pain  and  anxiety  of  it,  one 
cannot  but  rejoice  at  his  giving  sceptical  literary  men  so  bright 
an  example  of  clerical  honesty  and  boldness.  I  cannot  talk 
much  about  the  matter  now,  but  you  will  like  to  hear  some  of 
the  details.  At  the  first  meeting  of  the  Council  after  the 
vacation  an  angry  altercation  took  place.  Copies  of  Jelfs  and 
Maurice's  pamphlets  were  then  given  or  sent  to  all  the 
members.  At  the  next  meeting  (a  fortnight  later)  some  rabid 
member  proposed  a  vote  of  instant  expulsion ;  the  Bishop  of 
London  thought  this  violent,  and  proposed  a  gentler  string  of 
resolutions  (those  afterwards  carried).  Gladstone  strongly 
dissented,  urged  the  utter  incompetence  of  such  a  tribunal 
to  try  so  delicate  and  mysterious  a  point  of  theology,  and 
moved  an  amendment  that  the  matter  be  left  in  the  Bishop  of 
London's  hands,  to  be  by  him  referred  to  a  committee  of 
theologians  nominated  by  him,  who  should  report  to  the 
Council.  The  Bishop  readily  acceded  to  this  amendment, 
and  so  did  most  of  the  Council,  but  Lords  Howe,  Harrowby, 
Cholmondeley,  and  Radstock  made  such  a  violent  outcry, 
protesting  against  betraying  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  that  Glad 
stone  in  disgust  withdrew  his  amendment, — the  Bishop's 
1  i.e.  S.  Oxon. 

AGE  25 


resolutions  were  carried  without  a  division.  The  forbidding 
Maurice  to  lecture  was  Jelf  s  own  act.  At  the  next  meeting 
was  read  Maurice's  letter  (which  you  must  have  seen  in  the 
Guardian),  asking  the  Council  to  interpret  their  own  resolutions, 
and  demanding  to  know  what  formulary  he  had  contradicted, 
and  by  what  words  of  his  own.  This  was  refused ;  on  which 
the  Bishop  of  Lichfield,  Milman,  and  James  Anderson  handed 
in  formal  protests  against  the  proceedings  :  Justice  Patteson, 
Sir  B.  Brodie,  and  Green  the  surgeon  (Coleridge's  philosophical 
executor),  if  not  others,  also  voted  against  the  refusal.  I  am  glad 
that  Maurice  has  kept  his  temper  so  admirably  in  the  preface  to 
the  2nd  edition.  You  may  perhaps  be  interested  in  a  passage 
of  St.  Clement,  bearing  on  the  question,  which  I  found  some 
weeks  ago  and  translated  literally ;  so  I  send  it,  but  should 
like  to  have  it  back  again.  You  will  see  that  the  whole  passage 
is  in  exposition  of  the  common  patristic  but  wrong  interpreta 
tion  of  St.  Peter's  words  about  Christ's  preaching  to  the  spirits 
in  prison,  but  the  possibility  of  a  locus  pcenitenticz  after  death  is 
clearly  assumed  throughout.  You  will  doubtless  have  been 
grieving  over  dear  old  Professor  Mill's  sad  and  unexpected 
death.  We  never  wanted  him  more.  Of  late  he  has  been 
rather  better  appreciated ;  but  he  was  indeed  as  a  prophet  in 
his  own  country,  and  will  be  more  honoured  a  century  hence 
than  now. 

I  forgot  to  mention  (what  perhaps  you  know  already)  that 
a  rather  mild  address  to  Maurice  is  being  got  up  by  Hare, 
Thompson,  etc.  My  copy  is  abroad  at  present,  but  you  shall 
see  it  when  I  get  it  back.  Davies *  (St.  Mark's  Parsonage, 
Whitechapel)  receives  signatures,  viz.  of  clergymen  and 


CAMBRIDGE,  February  \T>th,  1854. 

My  dearest  Mother — The  worry  of  the  Moral  Sciences 
Tripos  is  at  last  over,  and  thoroughly  glad  I  am  of  it.  You 
have,  I  hope,  long  ago  received  the  paper  itself,  which  I 
sent  off  on  Thursday  as  soon  as  it  was  set.  I  gave  them 

1  The  Rev.  J.  Llewelyn  Davies. 


five  and  a  half  hours  to  do  it  in,  and  when  that  period  of  hard 
work  for  them  was  over,  mine  began.  I  had  undertaken  to 
Whewell  to  have  the  answers  all  looked  over  and  marked,  and 
the  marks  added  up  by  eleven  on  Saturday  morning,  and  I  kept 
my  word ;  but  it  was  a  close  run,  and  I  had  to  use  the  greatest 
exertions.  .  .  . 

The  government  of  the  University  Library  has  just  been 
reformed,  and  the  Vice-Chancellor  has  nominated  me  among 
the  sixteen  who  form  the  first  Syndicate  under  the  new  regime. 
We  began  our  work  to-day,  and  there  seems  every  prospect  of 
our  getting  on  well. 


CAMBRIDGE,  February  23^,  1854. 

...  I  am  now  deep  in  St.  Augustin's  De  Doctrina  Chris 
tiana  for  ordination,  and  am  greatly  delighted  with  its  beauty 
and  wisdom,  on  the  whole.  It  is  certainly  to  the  Bishop's 
(or  Trench's  ? l)  credit  to  set  such  a  book  before  candidates. 
By  this  day  fortnight  I  shall  probably  be  at  Cuddesdon,  and 
the  ordination  is  on  the  following  Sunday.  I  am  sure  you 
will  remember  me  on  that  day. 


CUDDESDON  PALACE,  March  ytk,  1854. 

My  dearest  Mother — Before  going  to  bed,  I  want  to 
scribble  you  a  line  to  say  that  I  have  arrived  here  safely,  and 
have  had  one  day  of  the  examination.  I  reached  Oxford 
yesterday  a  little  after  four  alone,  Gorham  being  detained  a 
day  or  two  in  town  by  urgent  business.  As  soon  as  I  had 
tidied  myself  a  little,  I  called  on  Finder  2  in  Trinity,  but  he 
was  already  in  hall.  A  search  for  John  Ormerod  was  more 
successful,  and  I  dined  with  him  in  Brasenose.  Late  in 
the  evening  Gorham  arrived.  At  a  quarter  past  nine 
this  morning  we  started  in  a  fly,  and  reached  this  place 

1  Examining  chaplain  to  the  Bishop  of  Oxford. 
2  Now  the  Rev.  North  Finder. 

AGE  25 

about  ten.  The  servants  showed  us  to  our  rooms, 
but  before  long  we  assembled  (nineteen  in  number)  in 
a  sort  of  hall-room.  The  bell  soon  rang,  and  we  made  our 
way  to  the  Bishop's  beautiful  little  chapel.  Presently  the 
Bishop  arrived  with  his  two  chaplains,  Trench  and  Randall, 
and  Pott,1  who  all  took  part  in  the  service,  but  it  was 
performed  as  quietly  as  possible.  The  lessons  were  Lev.  viii. 
and  Luke  vi.  1-19.  The  second  was  read  by  the  Bishop, 
who  thereupon  delivered  a  short  but  most  beautiful  and  every 
way  excellent  address.  Soon  after  chapel  we  had  a  short 
piece  of  Hooker  to  turn  into  Latin  for  half  an  hour,  and  then 
two  hours  nominally  on  the  New  Testament,  but  including 
various  things.  I  began  in  the  middle,  and  did  not  find  time 
to  attempt  many  questions,  as  I  wrote  rather  carefully.  Next 
followed  a  bread-and-cheese  lunch,  and  then  half  an  hour  for 
air  and  exercise.  They  might  have  allowed  us  more,  for  after 
our  return  we  had  to  kick  our  heels  forty  minutes.  Then 
we  had  two  hours  for  a  sermon  on  i  Cor.  x.  13.  Then 
chapel  again  (at  about  half-past  six),  the  lessons  being  Lev.  xxi. 
and  i  John  ii.,  with  another  address  from  the  Bishop.  Then 
a  few  minutes  to  dress,  followed  by  dinner.  The  Bishop 
made  me  sit  by  his  side,  which  I  found  a  very  agreeable  post. 
After  sitting  a  short  time,  coffee  was  brought  in,  and  then  the 
Bishop  rang  the  bell,  went  to  the  door  and  shook  every  one  by 
the  hand  and  said  good-night  as  he  went  out,  and  we  were 
dismissed  to  our  rooms.  Mine  is  a  very  excellent  and  com 
fortable  one,  with  a  blazing  fire.  And  so  ends  a  very  pleasant, 
but  exceedingly  fatiguing  day.  My  expectations  were  so  high 
that  it  would  have  been  strange  indeed  if  they  had  been 
surpassed,  but  I  have  certainly  not  been  disappointed. 
Good-night  to  you  all. — Ever  your  affectionate  son, 



CUDDESDON  PALACE,  March  nth,  1854. 

.   .  .  The  Bishop  had  a  talk  with  me  this  morning,  and 
told  me  that  I  had  done  very  well  indeed  (especially  in  the 
1  The  Vicar  of  Cuddesdon. 


doctrinal  paper)  in  all  but  the  Old  Testament  History,  in  which 
my  answers,  though  above  the  average,  were  not  so  good  as 
he  should  have  expected  from  my  other  papers.  These  have 
been  three  very  pleasant  days.  The  Bishop  is  kindness  and 
goodness  itself,  and  his  chaplains  both  pleasant  in  their  several 
ways.  I  wish  you  could  have  heard  his  morning  and  evening 
comments  on  the  special  lessons  in  chapel.  I  do  not  know 
any  one  who  would  have  enjoyed  them  more. 


OXFORD,  March  izth,  1854. 

My  dearest  Mother — I  am  sure  you  will  like  to  receive  a  line 
from  me  written  before  this  awful  day  has  quite  gone  by,  although 
it  be  no  more  than  a  line  ;  and  indeed  I  do  not  feel  disposed 
to  write  more.  My  thoughts  about  the  event  (even  if  I  knew 
how  to  express  them  to  myself,  which  I  do  not)  are  as  nothing 
to  the  event  itself.  All  took  place  as  could  have  been  wished, 
and  there  were  no  unpleasant  accessions  to  disturb  and  vex 
one's  thoughts.  The  Bishop  of  Grahamstown  preached  the 
sermon — very  good  but  rather  dry.  He  also  read  the  Epistle. 
I  had  to  read  the  Gospel,  which  I  managed  pretty  well,  though 
at  first  it  was  difficult  to  see  the  letters.  I  was  not  sorry  at 
the  Communion  to  receive  the  bread  from  Bishop  Armstrong. 
He  shook  hands  with  me  most  affectionately  both  before  and 
after  the  service.  In  the  afternoon  I  heard  the  Bishop  of 
Oxford  preach  before  the  University  at  St.  Mary's ;  the  sermon 
was  mainly  practical,  and  addressed  to  the  undergraduates, 
but  (not  to  speak  of  its  astonishing  power  and  eloquence)  it 
would  not  be  easy  to  imagine  a  more  valuable  or  appropriate 
conclusion  to  the  services  of  the  morning.  At  half-past  six 
Bishop  Armstrong  was  to  preach  again  before  the  University, 
but  we  had  had  enough.  At  five  we  went  to  Christ  Church 
to  receive  our  Letters  of  Orders,  and  the  Bishop  of  Oxford 
again  twice  said  good-bye  to  me  with  especial  cordiality. 

Gorham  and  I  have  been  fortunate  in  getting  these  quarters. 
Butler1   has    been    most    kind    and   pleasant,    and    his    wife 

1  George  Butler,  eldest  son  of  the  then  Dean  of  Peterborough. 


thoroughly  delightful.  In  the  evening  two  or  three  pleasant 
friends  of  his  came  in, — among  them  William  Thomson,  the 
author  of  the  Bampton  Lectures  that  you  were  reading. 

Now  good- night,  and  God  bless  you  all. — Believe  me, 
ever  your  affectionate  son,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 

The  first  part  of  the  following  letter  gives  an  account 
of  the  ordination  almost  identical  with  that  sent  to 
his  mother  ;  a  third  detailed  account  was  sent  to  Mr. 
G.  Blunt. 


CAMBRIDGE,  March  igth  and  April  2nd,  1854. 

Gorham  and  I  made  acquaintance  with  George 
Butler,  and  he  very  kindly  offered  us  beds  at  his  lodgings, 
which  of  course  we  were  only  too  glad  to  accept.  Pleasanter 
quarters  we  could  not  have  had.  I  ought  to  have  mentioned 
that,  as  the  Bishop  likes  taking  his  candidates  to  different 
towns  to  familiarize  the  people  with  ordination,  we  should 
probably  have  gone  to  Reading,  or  some  such  place,  had  not 
the  Bishop  been  obliged  to  preach  before  the  University  in 
the  afternoon,  and  therefore  tied  to  Oxford,  which  I  did  not 
at  all  regret.  A  little  before  9  A.M.  we  met  at  the  church 
warden's  house.  To  my  great  delight  Bishop  Armstrong  was 
outside,  and  greeted  me  very  warmly.  We  (the  candidates) 
then  walked  in  procession  in  our  surplices  and  hoods  to  St. 
Peter's  Church,  the  oldest  in  Oxford ;  it  was  dreadfully 
mauled  in  Perpendicular  times,  but  retains  much  glorious 
Norman  work,  especially  in  the  chancel.  There  was  an  air 
of  life  and  reality  about  the  whole  church,  congregation,  and 
service  which  was  very  invigorating  and  enjoyable.  The 
whole  service  was  musical  (as  you  will  have  seen  by  the 
Guardian),  and  that  for  the  first  time,  I  believe  (in  an  ordina 
tion),  for  centuries.  The  rector  intoned  the  prayers  very  well. 
The  choir  consisted  of  the  Plainsong  and  another  musical 
society  of  the  University ;  but  the  singing  was  tolerably 
congregational.  The  chanting  was  all  Gregorian.  Arm- 
VOL.  I  T 


strong's  sermon  was  in  many  respects  good.  The  Bishop's 
chair  was  then  placed  in  the  entrance  of  the  altar  rails,  and 
he  very  solemnly  and  pointedly  addressed  the  congregation  as 
appointed.  When  we  came  to  the  Litany,  he  turned  round 
to  the  East,  kneeling  at  his  chair ;  and  Archdeacon  Clark  and 
Randall  (Trench  was  gone  back  to  Itchenstoke)  knelt  at  the 
rails  on  one  side  and  the  rector  and  chief  curate  on  the  other, 
and  all  five  at  once  intoned  or  almost  sung  the  petitions  of 
the  Litany,  the  Bishop  leading  magnificently,  and  the  choir 
and  congregation  sang  the  responses.  The  effect  was 
perfectly  wonderful, — far  beyond  what  I  could  have  supposed. 
I  had  to  read  the  Gospel.  A  great  many  of  the  congregation 
stayed  for  the  Communion,  which  was  very  solemn  and  con 
genial.  ...  At  a  little  after  one  the  great  service  was  finished. 
Gorham  and  I  dined  quietly  with  the  Butlers.  In  the 
evening  W.  Thomson  of  Queen's,  James  of  Queen's,  and  Max 
Miiller  (the  great  Sanskrit  scholar)  came  in,  and  we  had  some 
pleasant  talk.  When  they  were  gone,  Gorham  asked  for  some 
music.  Mrs.  Butler  had  there  no  '  sacred '  music,  so  called  ; 
but  she  played  Beethoven's  divine  second  sonata,  and  so 
appropriately  ended  the  day.  Next  morning  Conington  came 
to  breakfast,  and  we  had  a  good  talk  about  our  Journal  of 
Philology.  After  breakfast  we  strolled  round  the  Bodleian. 
I  have  not  time  to  talk  about  Cuddesdon,  the  Bishop,  etc., 
but  can  only  say  that  I  came  to  love  and  value  him  very 
highly  indeed;  it  is  not  easy  at  a  distance  altogether  to 
appreciate  his  temptations  and  his  character.  His  arrange 
ments  were  most  admirable ;  from  the  time  I  reached 
Cuddesdon  on  Thursday  till  I  said  good-bye,  when  I  went  for 
my  Letters  of  Orders  at  Christ's  Church  on  Sunday  afternoon, 
there  was  nothing  whatever  to  meet  one's  eye  or  ear  that  was 
not  harmonious  with  the  occasion.  Oxford  too  I  enjoyed 
much,  and  wished  for  a  longer  stay. 

I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  speak  so  of  the  Government ; 
I  doubt  whether  there  has  been  such  a  one  since  Elizabeth's 
time.  .  .  .  But,  in  praising  the  Government,  one  must  not 
forget  the  misdeeds  of  single  members.  ...  It  is  very 
delightful  to  find  England  in  so  noble  a  moral  position  as  the 
publication  of  the  secret  correspondence  gives  her.  And 

AGE  25 



what  a  blessed  thing  this  French  alliance  is  !  what  prospects 
it  seems  to  open  for  the  world  and  the  Church  !  Surely  it 
must  do  more  for  France  than  centuries  of  entente  cordiale 
and  Louis  Philippisme ;  Frenchmen  will  hardly  know  them 
selves  in  the  doubly  new  position  of  fighting  along  with 
England,  and  in  defence  of  the  right.  But  it  is  fearful  to 
read  the  wild  exultation  with  which  some  of  the  papers 
(representing  but  too  faithfully,  I  fear,  the  minds  of  their 
readers)  are  looking  forward  to  the  war.  I  have  a  sad  fore 
boding  that — over  and  above  the  cruel  carnage  which  must 
inevitably  touch  every  corner  of  the  land — we  shall  be  visited 
by  some  fearful  national  calamity,  for,  alas  !  we  need  it. 

I  must  not  speak  at  any  length  about  Maurice's  business. 
I  agree  with  you  in  thinking  it  a  pity  that  Maurice  verbally 
repudiates  purgatory,  but  I  fully  and  unwaveringly  agree  with 
him  in  the  three  cardinal  points  of  the  controversy:  (i)  that 
eternity  is  independent  of  duration;  (2)  that  the  power  of 
repentance  is  not  limited  to  this  life;  (3)  that  it  is  not 
revealed  whether  or  not  all  will  ultimately  repent.  The 
modern  denial  of  the  second  has,  I  suppose,  had  more  to  do 
with  the  despiritualizing  of  theology  than  almost  anything] 
that  could  be  named.  How  contrary  it  is  to  the  spirit  of  the 
Fathers  of  all  schools  may  be  seen  from  the  notes  to  Pearson 
on  the  Descent  into  Hell.  The  cool  a  priori  paragraph 
(beginning,  "Again,  as  the  authority"),  in  which  he  flings 
antiquity  boldly  aside,  because  it  clashes  with  the  modern 
dogma,  is  well  worthy  of  remark.  .  .  . 

Great  changes  are  taking  place  here.  The  University 
Library  is  already  half  reformed,  and  the  Pitt  Press  will  soon 
have  much  greater  changes.  Unluckily  they  propose  most 
dangerous  schemes  for  future  degrees,  Theological  Tripos,  etc. 
etc.,  which  we  shall  have  to  vote  on  next  term ;  and  I  am 
not  sure  that  I  shall  not  perpetrate  a  pamphlet.  We  are 
getting  up  a  society  for  Church  music,  and  hope  to  get 
Helmore  to  start  it ;  luckily  we  have  Harvey  Goodwin,  but 
some  furious  High  Church  undergrads  give  much  trouble. 
How  pleasant  to  think  of  Lord  Aberdeen  offering  dear  old 
Blunt  the  Bishoprick  ! 

If  you  come  across  Charles  Reade's  Peg  Woffington,  read 


it;  it  is  obviously  sprung  from  Thackeray's  influence. 
Robert  Curzon's  Armenia  is  of  course  delightful,  but  it  ought 
to  be  more  so,  and  more  of  it. 


HARDWICK,  April  nth  and  14^,  1854. 

.  .  .  On  Saturday  the  new  complications  of  railways  made 
my  train  so  late  at  Shoreditch  that  I  could  not  get  to 

Paddington  in  time  for  the  express  ;  but 1  of  King's, 

being  in  the  same  predicament,  said  that  he  meant  under  the 
circumstances  to  go  by  the  short  train  to  Eton  (where  he  is 
now  a  master)  for  the  two  nights,  and  urged  me  to  do  the 
same,  offering  me  a  bed,  which  I  accepted,  and  was  quite 
repaid.  Eton  is  truly  a  great  place,  and  it  is  no  wonder  that 
Eton  men  are  so  extravagantly  proud  of  it.  I  am  sure  I 
should  be  the  same,  if  I  had  been  brought  up  there,  though 
I  would  not  take  it  in  exchange  for  Arnold  and  homespun 
Rugby.  On  Sunday  morning  we  went  up  to  Windsor  Castle, 
and  attended  service  in  St.  George's  Chapel.  I  was  glad  to 
attend  service  there  at  the  beginning  of  the  war.  In  the 
afternoon  we  had  a  congenial  service  at  Eton  Chapel,  a  noble 
building  in  spite  of  its  second-rate  architecture.  After  service 
we  strolled  through  the  beautiful  bright  green  meadows  by 
the  Thames,  making  a  circuit  to  the  Castle,  where  we  enjoyed 
the  air  and  the  glorious  view  from  the  terrace  for  some 
time.  .  .  . 

I  have  not  heard  of  the  address  to  Maurice  being  yet 
presented.  He  is  very  busy  at  a  '  People's  College '  which  he 
is  trying  to  establish,  and  on  behalf  of  which  he  is  going  to 
deliver  public  lectures  in  London.  He  also  talks  of  answering 
Dr.  Candlish's  Exeter  Hall  attack,  when  it  is  published. 
Kingsley  is  publishing  the  lectures  on  Alexandrine  Philosophy 
which  he  delivered  at  Edinbro ;  I  wonder  they  are  not  out 
yet.  .  .  . 

It  is  an  age  since  I  have  heard  anything  about  your  wife 
or  my  dear  little  godchild ;  do  tell  me  all  about  them.  Can 
the  latter  walk,  speak,  or  do  anything  human  ?  Even  teeth 
1  Name  indistinct ;  probably  [W.]  Wayte. 

AGE  26 



would,  I  think,  interest  me.  If  I  go  on  longer,  you  will  get 
no  breakfast,  so  good-night  and  God  bless  you  all, — always 
dear,  but  never  so  dear  as  at  this  old  Justin  Martyr  sofa- 
table.1 — Ever  your  affectionate  friend, 



HARDWICK,  CHEPSTOW,  Easter  Eve,  1854. 
...  I  thank  you  very  much  for  your  kind  wishes ;  I  am 
sure  they  are  true,  though  my  time  for  fully  realising  their 
truth  in  practice  does  not  seem  to  be  yet  come.  You  must 
not  expect  a  long  account  from  me  now ;  but  I  spent  most 
happy  days  at  Cuddesdon  and  Oxford,  without  anything 
discordant  to  violate  the  sacredness  of  the  time,  and 
was  specially  delighted  with  the  calumniated  Bishop  himself. 
I  must  just  allude  to  some  publications  which  Trench 
mentioned  to  me  then,  and  has  since  lent  to  me.  A  most 
singular  movement  is  taking  place  among  the  German 
'  Reformation  '  settled  in  America,  the  centre  of  the  move 
ment  being  Mercersburg.  The  leading  man  is  Dr.  Nevin, 
who  has  written  in  the  Mercersburg  Review  a  series  of 
passionate  articles  against  the  '  baptistic  '  and  { anti-creed  ' 
theory  of  Christianity,  pleading  earnestly  for  continuity  of 
development  in  Church  History,  and  especially  for  an 
affectionate  study  of  the  early  Church,  as  the  only  way  of 
getting  a  standing  ground  for  interpreting  the  Bible,  taking 
the  Apostles'  Creed  as  a  guide.  I  can  compare  him  to  no 
one  but  Newman,  and  higher  praise  it  would  be  difficult  to 
give.  I  fear  he  is  fast  drifting  Romewards. 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  24^,  1854. 

.  .  .  Thank  you  for  John's2  interesting  dispatches,  which 
I   duly  forwarded   to   Kingstown.      They   are  a   great  help 

1  A  table  at  which  Hort  and  Mr.  Blunt  read  Justin  together,  and  talked, 
one  summer  vacation  at  Hardwick. 

2  His  first  cousin,  afterwards  Lieutenant -General  Sir  John  Hort,  then 
serving  in  the  Crimea. 


towards  making  the  newspapers  intelligible.  I  see  by  yester 
day's  Times  that  on  the  yth  (I  think)  the  4th  and  its  com 
panion  regiments  were  moved  to  Bulair,  as  John  expected, 
to  take  their  turn  at  digging  the  entrenchments  across  the 
isthmus  above  Gallipoli.  I  will  send  my  father  by  the  next 
post  a  sixpenny  reprint  of  an  article  in  Fraser,  the  best 
and  most  authentic  account  that  has  yet  been  published 
of  the  Russian  defences  in  the  Baltic  and  the  Russian  fleet 
generally.  The  author  is  one  of  our  attaches  at  St.  Peters- 
burgh,  driven  home  by  the  war ;  he  is  a  very  sharp-eyed  and 
intelligent  little  creature,  and  had  access  to  all  documents 
likely  to  be  of  much  use  in  drawing  up  such  an  account.  I 
hope  my  father  showed  you  Du  Hamelin's  French  dispatch 
about  the  affair  at  Odessa;  it  is  the  only  really  satisfactory 
account  that  I  have  seen.  The  anxious  care  taken  by  our 
fleets  to  spare  private  property  is  very  pleasant  to  see  at  the 
beginning  of  the  war.  I  have  been  since  told  (not  having 
myself  noticed  the  fact)  that  the  gunner  of  the  Terrible  has 
been  disrated  for  not  being  able  to  abstain  from  firing  (and 
but  too  skilfully)  a  shell  at  the  temptingly  smooth  round  white 
dome  of  some  mosque  or  similar  building. 

The  following  letter  is  an  answer  to  questions  about 
the  '  call '  to  take  holy  orders. 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  $ist,  1854. 

My  dear  Blunt — It  is  not  very  easy  to  answer  your  ques 
tion  fairly  without  seeming  to  beat  about  the  bush ;  but  I  will 
try.  I  think  you  have  rather  confused  the  '  inward  motion  of 
the  Spirit '  with  the  '  call,'  which  are  not  exactly  coincident, 
though  they  must  be  mostly  considered  together. 

First  observe  the  distinct  phrase  used  by  the  Church,  "  Do 
you  trust  that  you  are  inwardly  moved  ?  "  etc.  The  matter  is 
frankly  set  forth  as  one  of  faith,  not  of  sensible  consciousness. 
The  motion  of  the  Spirit  is  to  be  inferred  from  its  effects  in 

AGE  26 



and  on  our  spirit ;  any  other  view  is  likely  to  degrade  and  car 
nalize  our  apprehensions  of  spiritual  operations,  not  exalt 
them.  Now  I  do  not  think  it  possible  for  one  man  to  lay 
down  absolutely  for  another  what  inward  thoughts  and  aspira 
tions  are  or  are  not  trustworthy  indices  to  a  genuine  motion  of 
the  Holy  Ghost ;  but  the  Church's  words  do  themselves  sug 
gest  some  necessary  elements  of  them, — a  direct  and  unmixed 
(I  mean,  clearly  realizable  and  distinguishable)  desire  to  be 
specially  employed  in  promoting  God's  glory  and  building  up 
His  people.  You  will  say  that  this  is  after  all  the  duty,  not 
specially  of  a  clergyman,  but  of  every  Christian  man.  I  cannot 
deny  it,  though  I  do  not  know  why  I  should  wish  to  deny  an 
inference  to  which  the  Church  herself  so  plainly  leads  me. 
Perhaps  we  may  find  it  a  most  pregnant  and  significant  inti 
mation  of  the  real  nature  of  the  priestly  and  the  simply 
Christian  life,  and  their  relation  to  each  other.  The  one 
great  work  of  a  priest  is  to  set  forth  what  a  man  is  and  is 
meant  to  be ;  if  we  set  this  fundamental  truth  aside,  we  affect 
a  more  saintly  eminence  than  our  High  Priest,  the  Son  of 
Man.  We  have  therefore,  I  quite  allow,  the  strongest  reasons 
for  saying  that  the  glory  of  God  and  the  building  up  of  his 
brethren  must  be  the  common  daily  work-day  aim  of  every 
man ;  but  this  may  be  done  mediately  or  immediately.  Plato 
has  taught  us  that  every  craft  and  profession  has  some  special 
human  work  (some  particular  way  of  glorifying  God,  as  we 
should  say),  which  must  not  be  confused  with  its  adjuncts  and 
accessories.  The  healing  of  bodies  is  the  work  of  a  physician, 
so  far  as  he  is  a  physician, — not  the  supporting  himself,  etc. 
These  subsidiary  results  must  follow,  not  lead  or  even,  in  some 
sense,  accompany,  the  primary  work.  And  so  it  is  with  the 
clergyman's  work.  He  must  have  a  desire  to  set  forth  the 
glory  of  God  simply  and  directly,  in  those  forms  which  show 
it  forth  most  nakedly.  He  must  not  only  act  it  out  but  speak 
of  it,  make  men  know  it  and  consciously  enter  into  it.  None 
of  the  phenomena  of  life  are  primarily  his  province,  but  the 
glory  and  the  love  which  underlie  them  all.  He  is  not  simply 
an  officer  or  servant  of  God  or  workman  of  God,  but  His 
ambassador  and  herald  to  tell  men  about  God  Himself.  He 
must  bring  distinctly  before  men  the  reality  of  the  heaven,  of 


which  the  earth  and  all  that  it  contains  is  but  the  symbol  and 
vesture.  And,  since  all  human  teaching  is  but  the  purging  of 
the  ear  to  hear  God's  teaching,  and  since  the  whole  man,  and 
not  certain  faculties  only,  must  enter  into  the  divine  presence, 
the  sacraments  must  be  the  centre  and  crown  (I  don't  mean 
central  subject)  of  his  teaching,  for  there  the  real  heights  and 
depths  of  heaven  are  most  fully  revealed,  and  at  the  same 
time  the  commonest  acts  and  things  of  earth  are  most  closely 
and  clearly  connected  with  the  highest  heaven.  This  is, 
briefly,  my  view  of  a  clergyman's  work ;  and  by  this,  I  think, 
must  the  nature  of  the  Spirit's  inward  motion  be  determined. 
If  a  man  does  not  feel  a  clear  paramount  desire, — often  inter 
rupted  and  diluted  and  even  counteracted,  but  still  distinctly 
present  whenever  he  is  in  his  right  mind, — to  tell  men  of  God 
and  Jesus  Christ  whom  He  has  sent, — in  a  word,  to  preach 
the  Gospel,  that  is,  announce  the  Good  Tidings, — I  very 
much  doubt  whether  he  has  a  right  to  '  trust  that  'he  is  '  in 
wardly  moved  by  the  Holy  Ghost' 

But  this  desire  may  be  present  in  a  greater  or  less  degree, 
and  with  a  greater  or  less  commixture  of  other  thoughts.  In 
some  it  is  so  strong  that  any  other  way  of  accomplishing  God's 
glory  would  be  irksome  to  them,  except  as  a  subsidiary  part  of 
their  lives.  But  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases  where  the  desire 
is  really  present,  it  is  not  so  overwhelming  but  that  it  may  be 
subordinated  to  others,  if  circumstances  should  be  unfavour 
able.  I  do  not  think  that  this  at  all  necessarily  implies  any 
moral  declension.  A  man  may  honestly  and  truly  desire  to 
preach  the  Gospel,  and  yet  he  may  best  do  God's  will  by 
becoming  squire,  attorney,  or  shoemaker.  It  is  here,  I  think, 
that  the  wishes  of  parents  or  other  circumstances  may  and 
must  have  their  effect.  Of  course  I  cannot  shrink  from  con 
sidering  the  converse  case.  A  man's  own  thoughts  may  have 
lain  in  another  direction,  and  yet  subsequent  external  circum 
stances  may,  I  think,  justify  his  taking  orders,  but  only  under 
certain  conditions.  If  he  cannot  find  in  himself  any  of  the 
special  desires  which  mark  God's  inspiration  of  His  own 
special  priests  and  prophets,  I  do  not  think  that  any  outward 
circumstances  can  supply  the  place.  But  it  must  be  re 
membered  that  circumstances  do  not  act  upon  us  only  at  one 

AGE  26 



crisis  of  our  lives ;  they  belong  to  our  childhood  and  youth  as 
well  as  our  manhood.  And  therefore  it  may  be  that  the 
genuine  desire  has  been  really  latent  in  a  man's  mind  for 
years,  hidden  and  kept  down  by  one  set  of  circumstances  and 
brought  to  light  and  consciousness  by  the  pressure  of  another. 
In  short,  when  we  speak  of  a  'call,'  we  must  take  great  care 
lest  we  introduce  notions  which  may  altogether  distort  our 
views  of  the  Spirit  and  His  operations.  We  must  not  think 
of  ourselves  as  cut  off  from  the  complicated  mass  of  events 
and  influences  around  us,  or  forget  that  the  same  God,  who 
holds  them  all  in  His  hand,  does  also  call  us  to  His  work,  and 
inspire  us  with  the  desire  and  the  strength  to  accomplish  it. 
We  do  not  honour  the  Spirit,  but  subject  Him  to  our  own 
private  fancies,  when  we  refuse  to  recognize  a  call  in  His 
ordering  of  events.  I  do  not  mean  that  outward  events  or 
things  independent  of  ourselves  entirely  constitute  our  circum 
stances  ;  our  own  inward  history,  our  present  inclinations, 
even  our  felt  capacities,  are  all,  I  think,  part  of  our  circum 
stances,  but  in  these  we  need  more  care  to  avoid  self-delusion, 
and  it  is  not  often  that  we  are  justified  in  consulting  them 
alone.  But  no  circumstances  can  justify  us  in  following  a 
profession  for  the  work  of  which  we  have  no  desire. — I  say 
*  work,'  because  that  seems  the  best  word ;  but  of  course  I 
do  not  mean  outward  employments,  except  in  a  subordinate 
sense ;  they  are  but  the  outcome  and  embodiment  of  our  real 
inward  'work.' — The  case  is  precisely  analogous  to  that  of 
ordinary  morality,  which  requires  us  to  be  led  by  circum 
stances  and  not  to  yield  to  them.  The  eternal  laws  of 
morality  are  paramount  over  all  temporal  circumstances.  If 
they  were  not,  there  could  be  no  such  thing  as  sin.  Ordina 
tion  is  no  exception  to  the  general  rule.  The  Church  re 
quires  a  trust  that  we  are  inwardly  moved  ("  Lord,  we  believe  ! 
help  Thou  our  unbelief !  ")  by  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  that  must 
be  present,  or  else  we  become  the  slaves  of  circumstances  and 
so  fall  into  sin. 

I  have  doubts  whether  you  will  think  this  letter  a  satisfac 
tory  answer  to  your  question.  But  I  am  convinced  that  no 
answer  can  be  a  righteous  and  true  one,  which  supplies  a 
mechanical  test  easy  of  application,  and  exempts  a  man  from 


the  awful  responsibility  of  deciding  for  himself  alone  before 

But  there  are  two  obvious  truths,  which  ought  to  be  kept 
distinctly  in  mind,  if  duty  and  responsibility  are  not  to  remain 
in  a  cold  and  cheerless  light,  which  is  by  no  means  divine. 
If  it  is  the  Spirit  that  moves  the  inward  man,  and  the  Spirit 
that  gives  the  call  in  whatever  shape  it  may  come,  it  is  the 
same  Spirit  that  clears  the  eye  and  strengthens  the  heart  to 
decide  truly  whether  either  the  motion  or  the  call  do  really 
exist.  And  again  it  is  the  same  Spirit  who  fills  us  with  Him 
self  at  ordination.  The  Reformers  may  have  been  quite  right 
in  denying  the  name  '  Sacrament '  to  an  institution  belonging 
only  to  a  part  of  mankind ;  but  it  is  most  truly  (what  the 
Greeks  called  Sacraments)  a  mystery  and  sacramental.  It  is 
God  that  makes  us  priests,  and  not  we  ourselves  ;  and  so  it  is 
not  our  own  previous  or  succeeding  desire  to  set  forth  His 
glory  that  enables  us  to  do  anything  for  Him,  but  only  the 
anointing  of  His  grace. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 


.P.S. — One  word  more  on  a  point  that  I  forgot.  You 
seem  to  speak  as  if  a  love  of  outdoor  occupations  were  some 
thing  like  a  disqualification  for  a  clergyman.  I  cannot  allow 
this.  I  do  not  think  my  standard  is  lower  than  the  popular 
one,  but  it  is  certainly  different.  With  regard  to  such  employ 
ments  in  themselves,  the  whole  of  society  has  relinquished 
them  to  a  most  injurious  extent ;  and  I  cannot  see  harm, 
looking  especially  to  the  future,  in  a  clergyman's  cultivating  in 
due  proportion  that  which  I  believe  to  be  an  integral  part  of  a 
healthy  human  life ;  and  still  more  with  respect  to  the  tone 
of  mind  which  such  employments  induce  and  from  which  the 
love  of  them  springs.  Nothing  is  more  wanted  for  the 
regeneration  of  England  than  a  vast  increase  of  manliness, 
courage,  and  simplicity  in  English  clergymen.  These  are 
moral  qualities ;  but  the  breezes  of  heaven  and  the  use  of  the 
muscles  have  not  a  little  effect  in  cultivating  them.  God 
knows  there  are  temptations  enough  in  this  direction  as  in 
every  other;  but  better  be  anything  than  an  effeminate 

AGE  26 



To  MR.  C.  H.  CHAMBERS 

CAMBRIDGE  [May  29^?],  1854. 

.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  University  business  going  on. 
A  fierce  struggle  took  place  at  the  beginning  of  this  term  on 
the  proposal  of  the  great  Studies  Syndicate  (alias  the  XXXIX. 
Articles)  to  allow  men  after  Little-go  to  proceed  ad  libitum  in 
Mathematics,  Classics,  Morals,  Physics,  or  Theology,  and  take 
a  degree  accordingly,  a  new  Theological  Tripos  being  pro 
posed  at  the  same  time.  Fortunately  we  succeeded  in  throw 
ing  out  all  except  the  exemption  of  Classics  from  subjection  to 
Mathematics.  But  plans  for  wiser  reform  are  already  afloat, 
and  I  am  on  a  new  Syndicate  to  adjust  the  Little-go  and  Pol.1 
The  Pitt  Press  will  likewise  be  revolutionised  on  Wednesday 
next,  and  will,  I  trust,  be  greatly  improved.  The  newly- 
organised  Library  Syndicate  has  been  sitting  two  terms.  We 
have  been  working  very  hard,  and  have  already  done  much 
good  work. 

The  last  University  intelligence  is  the  Whewell  Pot.  Our 
artistic  Master  has  been  crowning  a  chimney  in  the  Great 
Court  with  a  row  of  bright  blue  pots  surrounded  by  a  double 
border  of  bright  yellow  fleurs-de-lys  !  We  are  threatened  with 
similar  ornaments  all  round  the  College. 

We  had  Bishop  Selwyn  here  yesterday,  and  he  preached  a 
grand  sermon  at  St.  Mary's.  Politics  would  give  much  food 
for  talk,  if  one  had  time.  On  the  whole  I  am  hopeful  about 
the  war,  though  not  without  grave  misgivings.  The  French 
alliance  is,  however,  a  great  and  solid  satisfaction.  At  home 
I  never  expected  to  see  so  good  a  government.  Gladstone 
has  always  been  a  favourite  of  mine ;  and  it  is  now  doubly 
pleasant  to  see  how  he  confounds  the  politics  and  frustrates  the 
knavish  tricks  of  those  rascally  Derbyites. 


HOTEL  DE  L'Ecu,  GENEVA, /«;/£  24/7*,  1854. 
My  dearest  Mother — You  will  be  thankful  to  hear  that  I 
have  come  thus  far  safe  and  sound  without  anything  like  a 
1  i.e.  the  examinations  for  the  ordinary  degree. 


mishap.  .  .  .  Soon  after  midnight  I  woke  up  in  time  to  get 
some  refreshment  at  Tonnerre,  and  again  at  3.10  just  in  time 
to  get  out  of  the  train  at  Dijon.  The  diligence  stood  ready- 
horsed  a  few  yards  off,  and  at  the  half-hour  we  drove  away. 
It  was  a  queer  affair,  not  unlike  an  English  coach  but  for  the 
conducteur's  banquette  on  the  top.  Inside  there  was  nothing 
but  a  small  interieure.  A  dim  creature  (whom,  after  some 
mutual  boggling  in  French,  of  which  he  knew,  to  speak,  even 
less  than  I  did,  I  discovered  to  be  a  Scotchman)  had  the  first 
place,  a  Frenchman  the  second,  myself  the  third,  and  our 
plaids,  hats,  etc.,  the  fourth.  In  passing  by  twilight  through 
the  quaint  streets  of  Dijon,  I  had  just  such  a  glimpse  of  the 
Cathedral  as  to  make  me  wish  to  see  more.  The  country,  as 
well  as  I  could  make  out  at  intervals  between  snoozes,  was 
interesting  from  its  novelty,  but  not  very  striking.  At  length 
we  crossed  the  Saone,  a  noble  river,  and  entered  the  strongly- 
fortified  town  of  Auxonne.  An  hour  or  so  more  brought  us 
to  Dole,  a  large  and  interesting  place,  at  6.25;  here  we 
crossed  the  Doubs.  From  this  onwards  the  country  was 
rather  flat  till  Poligni,  a  most  striking  place,  which  we  reached 
at  8.45.  Here  our  passports  were  demanded  for  the  first  time 
since  leaving  Boulogne.  Here  the  plain  suddenly  ceases,  and 
the  lower  outskirts  of  the  Jura  rise  abruptly,  covered  with 
vineyards.  The  vineyards  themselves  rather  disappointed  me, 
but  I  had  formed  in  England  no  conception  of  the  exceeding 
grace  and  beauty  of  the  single  vines,  with  their  leaves  and 
tendrils  of  tender  golden  green  glistening  in  the  sunlight. 
Our  enjoyment  of  the  beautiful  ascent  from  Poligni  was  much 
spoiled  by  the  intrusion  of  an  enormous  Frenchman  into  our 
fourth  place,  besides  half  of  my  place ;  fortunately  this  nuisance 
lasted  only  two  stages.  A  mile  or  two  brought  us  to  the  top 
of  the  hill,  and  then  we  had  a  long  drive  on  a  tolerably  level 
plateau  of  rugged  ground,  which  was  very  delightful  from  its 
wildness,  and  the  beautiful  flowers,  especially  some  beautiful 
Spurges  and  Genista.  At  10.25  we  crossed  a  rapid  river  in  a 
gorge  below  us  and  entered  Champagnole,  where  a  petit  quart 
d'heure  was  allowed  us  for  breakfast.  We  were  famously 
hungry,  and  soon  devoured  no  small  amount  of  cafe  au  lait, 
trout  fried  in  oil,  omelette,  raspberries,  and  wild  strawberries. 


We  proceeded,  much  revived,  up  and  down  all  manner  of 
beautiful  vallies  and  ravines  for  many  miles.  The  vegetation 
(which  had  begun  to  change  the  moment  I  left  Boulogne) 
was  very  interesting  to  watch,  but  probably  three-quarters  of 
it  was  common  to  England,  and  it  was  a  pleasure  to  recognize 
old  friends  (such  as  the  bugloss)  among  the  brightest  flowers. 
The  vallies  (barring  the  pines)  might  all  have  occurred  in 
England,  and  once  I  had  just  noticed  a  striking  rezemblance 
to  parts  of  Teesdale,  when  we  burst  on  an  acre  of  globe 
flowers,  growing  just  as  you  may  remember  them  at  Caldron 
Snout,  and  in  the  following  ten  miles  I  noticed  almost  all  the 
characteristic  Teesdale  rarities.  ...  At  half-  past  three  we 
reached  the  highest  point  of  the  Jura,  and  Mt.  Blanc  suddenly 
burst  upon  us  in  all  his  glory,  his  top  quite  clear  from  the  thin 
clouds  which  hung  here  and  there  about  his  sides  and  lower 
peaks,  sometimes  rising  into  white  mounds  which  looked  like 
rival  Alps,  till  the  eye  learnt  to  distinguish  the  filmy  precision 
and  sharp  deep  shadows  of  the  genuine  snows.  Half  a  minute 
more  discovered  a  reach  of  the  blue  Leman ;  and  then  every 
turn,  as  we  zigzagged  rapidly  down  the  mountain,  opened  out 
some  new  aspect  of  the  glorious  valley.  We  were  soon  at  the 
bottom,  and  then  (except  for  the  distant  Alps)  the  level  ground, 
vegetation  and  all,  could  scarcely  have  been  distinguished  from 
that  of  England.  Our  passports  were  taken  from  us  at  the 
entrance  of  Geneva.  .  .  . 

This  morning  I  went  to  the  pretty  new  English  Church, 
and  meeting  there  my  Scotch  friend  of  yesterday,  who  had 
much  interested  me,  strolled  with  him  up  the  old  town  (after 
getting  a  magnificent  view  of  Mt.  Blanc,  now  quite  free  from 
cloud),  and  then  into  the  cemetery  (where  we  wandered  a 
long  time  among  the  plane-trees,  looking  at  the  epitaphs), 
to  see  the  plain  square  stone  with  4J.  C.'  which  marks 
Calvin's  grave.  My  fellow-traveller  was  a  young  'Free 
Kirk '  minister  of  Glasgow,  who  was  going  to-morrow  to  join 
his  family  at  Chamouni :  otherwise  he  would  gladly  have 
accompanied  me.  We  had  a  long  and  most  delightful  talk  on 
theological  matters ;  and,  though  he  was  a  stout  disciple  of 
John  Knox,  it  was  a  very  long  time  before  he  found  out  that  I 
was  anything  else.  We  parted  the  best  of  friends,  both,  I 


hope,  the  better  for  our  meeting.  ...  I  have  just  been 
wandering  about  the  fine  old  streets  up  to  the  curious 
cathedral,  and  down  again  along  the  lake,  and  about  the 
bridges,  listening  to  the  rushing  Rhone.  I  am  well  lodged 
here  in  a  nice  though  small  room  au  quatrieme  (there  are  two 
higher  stories  !).  My  windows  look  out  on  the  busy  Place  in 
front  of  the  Messageries  Imperiales,  with  the  level  lake  and  all 
its  strange  boats,  and  two  streets,  one  containing  a  cluster  of 
low  planes. 

Last  night  I  felt  very  odd  here — more  like  my  first  night 
at  Laleham  than  anything  else  that  I  can  remember ;  but  the 
situation  is  at  least  as  amusing  as  desolate,  and  I  have  enjoyed 
myself  very  much.  I  have  been  singularly  little  tired  with  the 
journey,  which  had  its  pleasures  in  every  part. 



August  \-$th  and  i$t/i,  1854. 

My  dear  Ellerton — Before  leaving  England  I  made  no 
promises  to  write  to  you  from  abroad,  as  I  foresaw  there 
would  be  great  difficulties,  and  I  have  quite  enough  broken 
vows  to  answer  for  already.  But  still  I  know  you  will  be 
glad  to  hear  from  these  regions. 

I  left  England  on  June  23rd,  reached  Dijon  next  day, 
travelled  from  thence  by  malle-poste  to  Geneva.  .  .  .  Next 
day  I  steamed  up  the  lake  to  Vevay,  slept  there,  took  the  early 
boat  next  morning  to  Lausanne,  wandered  about  the  city  and 
cathedral  (on  which  I  have  writ  something  in  the  incepted 
journal),  and  took  the  late  boat  to  Geneva.  I  did  not  see  the 
lake  to  advantage,  for  clouds  hid  the  highest  mountains  both 
days.  Thursday  the  2Qth  [June]  I  went  by  diligence  to  Sall- 
anches,  and  thence  by  char-a-banc  to  Chamonix.  July  ist  I 
got  a  good  (botanist)  guide,  Payot,  and  walked  round  through 
the  grand  gorge  of  the  Tete  Noire  to  Trient,  and  back  over 
the  Col  de  Balme  (in  the  clouds,  and  therefore  no  view)  to 
Chamonix.  A  Mr.  Mills  had  taken  the  duty  at  Chamonix  for 
some  weeks,  and  a  very  pleasant  man  I  found  him — scientific, 
to  boot.  He  gave  us  good  services  and  sermons.  He  had 



with  him  six  ladies.  An  agreeable  Oxford  man,  Theobald, 
was  also  there.  On  Monday  we  all  made  a  famous  party 
up  the  Flegere  to  see  the  view,  especially  of  Mt.  Blanc.  In 
the  evening  at  half-past  nine  Theobald,  Mills,  and  I  started 
with  two  guides  and  a  lantern  up  the  forest  on  the  flank 
of  Mt.  Blanc  to  the  little  inn  at  Montanvert,  which  we 
reached  at  midnight ;  slept  there,  and  next  day  had  a 
glorious  expedition  to  the  so-called  'Jardin,'  high  among 
the  glaciers  in  the  hollow  heart  of  Mt.  Blanc,  returning 
to  Chamonix  in  the  evening,  unluckily  in  much  rain.  Next 
day  I  only  strolled  about.  On  the  6th  I  set  out  alone  with 
Payot  for  the  Tour  of  Mt.  Blanc;  that  day  we  only  crossed 
the  Col  de  Vosa  to  Contamines.  Next  day  it  began  to 
rain  soon  after  we  had  started,  and  continued  all  the  way 
to  the  first  top  of  the  Col  du  Bonhomme;  then  we  had 
cloud  for  the  next  hour  along  the  dangerous  part  between  the 
first  and  second  top,  and  then  heavy  rain  again  all  the  way 
down  to  the  little  hamlet  of  Chapin  (at  the  extreme  S.W. 
corner  of  Mt.  Blanc),  where  we  slept.  Next  day  we  had  a 
fine  day  for  the  inexpressibly  glorious  views  over  the  Col  de 
la  Seigne  and  down  the  Allde  Blanche  to  Cormayeur  in 
Piedmont,  where  we  slept  two  nights,  passing  a  dull  Sunday. 
The  loth  was  a  hard  day.  We  walked  up  the  Val  and  over 
the  Col  de  Ferret,  and  then  over  the  Col  de  la  Fenetre  (with 
much  deep  wading  in  steeply-inclined  wet  snow),  down  some 
way  and  then  up  again  to  the  Hospice  of  the  Great  S.  Bernard, 
where  we  slept.  The  said  hospice  by  no  means  pleased  me. 
Next  day  I  walked  down  to  St.  Pierre,  and  there  took  a  char 
to  Martigny,  where  I  slept.  Next  morning  (July  i2th)  I 
parted  with  Payot,  and  P.M.  went  by  diligence  up  the  rather 
monotonous  valley  of  the  Rhone  to  Visp,  where  I  slept. 
Next  day  I  had  a  beautiful  walk  up  the  Valley  of  St.  Nicolas 
to  Zermatt,  near  the  Matterhorn  and  M.  Rosa.  Next  day  I 
went  up  the  Untere  Rothhorn  (with  a  famous  young  guide, 
Kronig)  for  the  magnificent  panoramic  view  of  the  highest 
peaks,  rising  out  of  beds  of  glacier;  and  above  all  of  that 
mountain  of  mountains,  the  wonderful  pyramidal  Matterhorn. 
Next  day  I  had  (with  two  guides,  Kronig  and  an  old  hunter)  a 
delightful  glacier  excursion  (altogether  \\\  hours),  ending 


with  a  long  and  difficult  climb,  to  the  Stockhorn  of  the 
Zmutt  Glacier.  No  tourist  has  made  the  excursion  before, 
except  the  very  very  few  who  have  crossed  the  dangerous 
Col  d'Erin,  among  whom  is  James  Forbes,  from  whose  book 
I  gathered  my  resolution  to  make  the  attempt.  The  view  is 
grand  indeed,  and,  above  all,  it  enabled  me  to  see  well  the 
W.  side  of  the  Matterhorn.  Sunday  I  passed  at  Zermatt. 
Monday  the  lyth  I  went  with  my  two  guides  to  the  top  of 
the  Matterjoch  (alias  Pass  of  St.  Theodule,  alias  Col  du 
Mt.  Cervin),  with  splendid  glacier  views  at  every  step,  then 
down  across  the  Furgga  Glacier  and  up  the  Hornli :  this  is  a 
spur  running  out  from  the  base  of  the  Matterhorn,  and  is 
described  (without  the  name)  in  Ruskin's  splendid  and  no 
less  faithful  portrait  of  the  Matterhorn  (in  Stones  of  Venice, 
vol.  i.),  which  portrait  it  was  one  great  object  of  mine  to 
verify,  and  most  strikingly  true  I  found  it  in  all  points  but 
one,  and  in  that  the  error  was  very  natural.  From  the  Hornli 
again  the  view  was  magnificent ;  but  the  truth  is,  that  this 
astonishing  region  round  Zermatt  affords  an  inexhaustible 
supply  of  excursions  and  points  of  view,  all  first-rate.  I 
meant  in  the  two  following  days  to  have  taken  a  new  and 
much-including  course  over  the  glaciers  of  M.  Rosa  to  the 
head  of  the  valley  of  Saas,  and  so  descended  to  Visp  again. 
But  on  that  Monday  evening,  having  been  for  hours  wading 
across  deep  pure  snow  under  a  cloudless  sky,  I  was  attacked 
(in  spite  of  a  green  veil)  so  severely  with  snow-blindness  that 
I  dared  not  trust  myself  to  the  glaciers  so  soon  again,  and 
next  day  merely  walked  down  to  Stalden,  where  the  vallies 
of  Saas  and  St.  Nicolas  meet.  Next  day  I  walked  up  to  the 
village  of  Saas,  and  still  higher  to  Fee  (which  has,  I  think, 
the  finest  single  glacier  in  the  Alps),  and  down  again  past 
Stalden  to  Visp,  where  I  again  slept.  Next  day  I  dismissed 
Kronig  and  took  a  car  down  the  Rhone  valley  to  Leuk,  and 
thence  walked  up  to  the  Baths  of  Leuk,  a  most  strange  place. 
Next  morning  I  walked  over  the  Gemmi  Pass  (which  begins, 
or  almost  begins,  with  scaling  a  vertical  precipice  of  a  good 
many  hundreds  of  feet  by  zigzag  galleries),  through  a  most 
savage  and  thoroughly  enjoyable  region  down  to  Kandersteg, 
whence  I  took  car  to  Thun.  Next  morning  I  met  James  of 

Trinity  with  two  friends  (one  an  old  Rugby  contemporary  of 
mine),  and  we  went  by  diligence  together  to  Berne  and  dined 
there,  and  then  they  went  on  to  Basle.  At  dinner  I  was 
lucky  enough  to  fall  in  with  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lee.  They 
are  very  delightful  people,  and  the  next  day  (Sunday)  at 
Berne  was  a  very  happy  one.  Monday  I  went  by  diligence 
back  to  Thun,  and  thence  by  steamer  along  the  lake  of  Thun 
to  Neuhaus,  and  thence  by  car  to  Interlachen.  Here  I  met 
Lord  Rollo.  Finding  that  our  routes  would  partly  coincide, 
we  agreed  to  travel  together  for  the  next  day  or  two,  and  I 
enjoyed  his  company  much.  Next  day  (the  25th)  we  took  a 
carriage  to  Lauterbrunnen,  walked  to  the  Staubbach,  and 
then  he  rode  and  I  walked  to  the  top  of  the  Wengern  Alp, 
where  we  slept  in  the  little  inn  full  in  front  of  the  superb 
Jungfrau.  This  is  a  famous  place  for  avalanches ;  but  we 
saw  only  one  worth  mentioning.  Next  morning  we  descended 
on  the  other  side  to  Grindelwald,  and  thence  up  the  Faul- 
horn,  in  ascending  which  we  were  overtaken  by  a  very 
pleasant  English  party.  Unluckily  the  rain  came  on  again, 
and  we  saw  little  from  the  summit  that  evening.  We  slept 
in  tolerable  comfort  up  in  the  region  of  snow,  and  next 
morning  were  rewarded  with  as  splendid  a  sunrise  as  man 
could  desire,  having  the  whole  cluster  of  Oberland  Alps 
ranged  close  before  us,  only  just  far  enough  off  to  enable  us  to 
take  them  all  in.  After  coffee  we  had  a  most  merry  walk  and 
ride  all  together  over  the  great  Scheideck  down  to  Rosenlaui. 
Lord  Rollo  and  I  went  up  to  the  exceedingly  pretty  little 
glacier  of  Rosenlaui,  and  then  down  the  valley  past  the  fine 
Reichenbach  Fall  to  Meyringen,  where  we  slept.  Next  morn 
ing  we  separated,  and  I  started  with  my  Interlachen  guide 
Gaultier  up  the  beautiful  valley  of  Hasli,  stopped  at  Handeck 
to  see  the  truly  magnificent  fall  ('  see '  is  not  the  right  word, 
for  two-thirds  of  the  fall  is  quite  hidden  by  the  spray),  and 
then  mounted  the  gloriously  wild  pass  of  the  Grimsel,  all 
bestrewed  with  huge  sloping  flakes  of  granite,  to  the  new 
Hotel  near  the  top,  where  we  slept.  Next  morning  we 
finished  the  pass,  and  descended  the  Maienwand,  a  steep 
mountain-slope  covered  with  the  richest  alpine  vegetation,  to 
the  foot  of  the  big  glacier  of  the  Rhone.  We  had  then  a 
VOL.  I  U 


fatiguing  and  rather  dull  ascent  of  the  Furka  (relieved  by 
some  backward  views  of  the  Oberland),  and  a  still  duller 
descent  on  the  other  side  to  Hospenthal.  At  dinner  I  struck 
up  an  acquaintance  with  two  Brighton  men.  .  .  .  Next  morning 
I  read  service  to  them  and  to  two  English  ladies,  and  P.M. 
we  walked  leisurely  to  the  Hospice  at  the  top  of  the  St. 
Gothard  Pass,  and  back  to  Hospenthal.  On  Monday  we  set 
out  walking  down  the  wild  but  too  much  praised  defile  of  the 
Devil's  Bridge  to  Amsteg,  and  after  dinner  took  chars  to 
Altdorf,  walking  up  in  the  sultry  evening  to  see  Tell's  birth 
place  at  Biirglen.  Tuesday  morning  was  wet,  but  P.M.  we 
walked  to  Fluelen,  and  thence  took  steamer  to  Luzern,  walk 
ing  in  the  evening  to  see  the  really  great  Lion  (designed  by 
Thorwaldsen)  in  honour  of  Louis  XVI. 's  Swiss  guards. 
Next  morning,  during  a  lull  in  the  rain,  we  steamed  to 
Kiissnacht,  and  later  walked  up  the  Righi,  getting  some 
tolerable  partial  views  during  the  ascent,  but  nothing  at  the 
top  except  the  singular  'Spectre,'  consisting  of  our  figures 
thrown  on  a  cloud  encircled  with  a  double  iris.  We  were 
not  roused  by  the  usual  horn  next  morning,  for  nothing  was 
to  be  seen  but  clouds.  We  walked  down  in  rain  to  Goldau, 
saw  the  strange  desolation  caused  by  the  landslip  of  the 
Rossberg,  and  then  took  a  carriage  to  Zurich.  In  the 
morning  I  went  by  steamer  and  diligence  combined,  along 
the  lakes  of  Zurich  and  Wallenstadt  to  Ragatz,  and  then 
walked  up  to  see  the  extraordinary  limestone  rift  containing 
the  hot  spring  that  supplies  Pfeffers'  Baths.  I  had  meant  to 
stay  two  or  three  days  in  the  neighbourhood,  but  the  badness 
of  the  weather  and  other  reasons  induced  me  to  leave  Ragatz 
next  morning  by  diligence  and  descend  the  rather  dull  valley 
of  the  Rhine  to  Rorschach,  there  take  steamer,  and  sleep  at 
Constance,  where  I  also  spent  the  following  day  (Sunday). 
My  six  weeks  for  Switzerland  were  now  finished,  and  I  was  in 
the  Grand  Duchy  of  Baden ;  but  next  day  I  returned  to 
Switzerland  for  a  few  hours  by  taking  diligence  to  Schaff- 
hausen,  and  walking  to  see  the  rather  poor  Falls  of  the  Rhine, 
and  then  returned  by  steamer  to  Constance.  On  Tuesday  I 
steamed  to  Lindau  (there  entering  Bavaria)  and  sailed  to 
Augsburg,  where  I  slept  at  the  famous  old  hotel  of  the  Three 




Moors.  Here  I  met  Thacker,  and  have  been  with  him  ever 
since.  Next  day  we  railed  to  Munich,  and  I  have  been 
engaged  ever  since  in  seeing  its  wonders,  which  would,  alas  ! 
require  months  to  exhaust.  The  present  Industrial  Exhibi 
tion,  a  Crystal  Palace  on  a  small  scale,  is  not  remarkable, 
except  for  the  superb  Bohemian  glass.  The  artistic  interest 
of  Munich  is  twofold:  (i)  the  modern  revived  German  art 
seen  in  perfection,  partly  in  architecture  (which  is  chiefly  so- 
called  '  Byzantine '  and  full  of  instructive  experiments,  though 
never,  I  think,  quite  successful,  and  always  rather  mechanical), 
great  learning,  great  skill,  thorough  good  taste,  and  hardly  a 
spark  of  life  or  inspiration ;  and  (2)  the  treasures  of  antient 
sculpture  and  painting  in  the  Glyptothek  and  Pinacothek. 
The  former,  chiefly  Greek,  include  many  very  exquisite  things, 
the  latter  form  an  admirably-arranged  exhibition  of  all  schools 
(except  the  English),  but  especially  the  early  German,  Rubens 
per  se,  and  early  Italian.  You  may  imagine  how  rich  it  is  in 
the  early  German  schools,  when  I  tell  you  that  the  first  day 
I  got  no  further  than  Albert  Diirer,  who  comes  out  in  all 
his  glory ;  but  it  is  vain  to  begin  to  talk  about  the  pictures 


September  loth,  1854. 

...  I  left  Munich  the  evening  of  August  i6th  and 
reached  Innsbruck  the  next  afternoon  by  a  pretty  drive 
across  the  mountains.  Next  evening  I  took  the  Verona 
diligence  across  the  Brenner  Pass  (which  I  crossed  in  the 
night),  the  fine  gorge  from  Brixen  to  Botzen,  the  great  flat 
sultry  valley  of  the  Adige  from  Botzen  to  below  Trent, 
and  crossed  the  back  of  Mt.  Baldo  in  the  night,  reaching 
Verona  early  on  Sunday  morning.  Trent,  the  only  place 
worth  mentioning  on  the  route,  is  a  fine  city,  in  a  dreadfully 
hot  and  confined  situation,  embowered  in  rank  fields  of  white 
mulberry,  vines  (chiefly  sprawling  over  divers  trees),  maize, 
and  pumpkins  —  altogether  as  unlikely  a  place  for  such  a 
Council  as  one  could  easily  imagine.  You  will  observe,  by 


the  way,  how  many  places  connected  with  the  Reformation  I 
shall  have  seen  this  summer — Geneva,  Zurich,  Constance, 
Augsburg,  and  Trent ;  Prague  would  have  been  added,  if  I 
had  gone  home  by  E.  Germany.  At  Verona  I  stayed  two 
days,  and  saw  it  after  a  manner ;  but  I  cannot  seek  lions  with 
any  energy  when  alone.  It  is  full  of  beautiful  canopied  tombs, 
especially  those  of  the  Scaligers.  On  the  2 2nd  (August)  I 
took  the  train  to  Padua,  walked  up  into  the  city  and  saw 
divers  things,  but,  above  all,  Giotto's  most  exquisite  frescoes 
in  the  Arena  chapel.  No  panel  pictures  of  his  that  I  have 
seen  give  any  idea  of  the  sweetness  and  graceful  dignity  of 
these  frescoes.  The  groupings  are  mostly  conventional,  but 
most  of  the  figures  themselves  are  very  great  indeed ;  the 
'  Last  Judgement '  is  alone  painful  and  vulgar.  In  the  even 
ing  I  went  on  to  Venice  and  took  up  my  quarters  at  the  Hotel 
de  la  Ville,  alias  the  Grassi  (Renaissance)  Palace.  .  .  . 

It  would  convey  no  idea  to  you  to  give  a  bulletin  of  each 
day  at  Venice,  nor  can  I  give  you  now  more  than  very  short 
results  ;  but  I  feel  the  mere  fact  of  having  been  there  to  be  an 
important  event  in  my  life ;  there  is  a  magic  in  it  which  I 
cannot  account  for.  St.  Mark's  is  most  truly  not  '  barbarous,' 
but  it  is  barbaric.  The  effect  is  certainly  beautiful  as  well  as 
peculiar  •  but  it  is  by  no  means  so  impressive  as  a  great  Gothic 
church,  though  the  odd  power  exercised  by  its  richness  and 
bizarrerie  might  easily  be  mistaken  for  impressiveness.  In  de 
tail  it  is  always  most  interesting  and  generally  most  beautiful. 
The  mosaics  alone  would  take  weeks  to  study  and  decipher, 
and  would  repay  it ;  but  Ruskin's  plates  give  a  very  fair  idea  of 
the  exquisiteness  of  the  Byzantine  capitals  and  other  carving. 
The  Doges'  Palace  looked  lovely  at  first  and  looked  more 
lovely  every  day ;  it  is,  however,  quite  beyond  description.  .  .  . 
Of  the  beauty  and  other  excellencies  of  the  Venetian-Gothic 
and  Byzantine  palaces  there  can  be  no  doubt ;  but  I  have  not 
been  able  to  make  up  my  mind  whether  they  would  be  in  any 
way  available  in  England.  The  churches,  one  and  all  (except 
St.  Mark's,  Torcello,  and  Murano),  miserably  disappointed  me  ; 
their  Gothic  is  generally  very  finicking  and  cramped  ;  literally 
half  the  parish  churches  of  England  would,  I  think,  supply 
better.  Their  use  of  moulded  brick  and  their  intermixture  of 

AGE  26 



colours  of  brick  and  stone  are,  however,  well  worthy  of  study 
and  imitation.  I  must  be  brief  about  pictures,  though  (just 
now,  at  least)  a  knowledge  of  Venetian  painting  seems  to  me 
the  greatest  treasure  of  this  summer.  One  result  greatly  sur 
prised  me :  Titian  went  down  immensely  in  my  estimation. 
Assuredly  he  excels  most  painters  in  manliness ;  but  at  Venice 
he  looks  shallow  and  theatrical  by  the  side  of  others,  who 
more  than  equal  him  in  manliness.  I  went  to  Venice  with 
great  misgivings  as  to  Ruskin's  exaltation  of  Tintoretto ;  nor 
can  I  now  agree  in  all  his  praises  of  particular  pictures,  but 
my  impression  is  that  he  rather  underrates  the  man  than  other 
wise.  He  seems  to  me  a  man  of  lordly,  energetic,  fiery  spirit, 
usually  disdaining  to  throw  off  a  sort  of  dogged  composure, 
revelling  in  all  kinds  of  beauty  and  yet  almost  always  liking  to 
veil  it  from  profane  or  vulgar  eyes,  full  of  subtle  mysticism  and 
yet  often  even  painfully  realistic,  rejoicing  in  the  earth  and  all 
that  is  upon  it,  but  not  the  less  inwardly  religious,  in  the  best 
sense  of  the  word.  I  have  always  enjoyed  Titian  most  in 
mythology  (as  our  'Ganymede'  and  'Venus  and  Adonis'), 
but  in  power  and  grace  he  is  as  nothing  when  you  look  at  three 
Tintorets  in  the  Doges'  Palace  (especially  a  most  perfect 
'  Venus  crowning  Ariadne ')  and  two  somewhat  similar  ones 
(the  '  Fall '  and  the  '  Death  of  Abel ')  in  the  Academy.  The 
'  Paradise '  of  the  Doges'  Palace  must  be  sui  generis ;  there 
can  be  no  picture  like  it  in  the  world.  But  the  precious  Scuola 
S.  Rocco  is  the  place  where  Tintoret  is  most  completely  and 
distinctively  himself.  Those  acres  of  rapid  sketchy  brown  and 
grey  tell  one  more  of  God  and  man  (chiefly,  I  fancy,  because 
they  have  entered  so  deeply  into  the  Incarnation)  than  any 
other  human  utterance  that  I  can  recollect.  ^Eschylus,  Dante, 
and  Beethoven  are  the  illustrative  names  that  first  occur,  but 
they  are  only  illustrative.  Pray  read  again  Ruskin's  excellent 
analysis  in  the  Appendix  to  the  Stones,  vol.  iii.  ;  it  is  almost 
all  true,  except  that  he  has  failed  to  see  as  much  as  he  might 
have  done.  The  last  four  of  the  N.  T.  series  I  hope  I  shall 
never  forget, — that  thin,  ghostly,  white,  lonely  figure  standing 
with  the  sad  quiet  face  bent  down  as  Pilate  washes  his  hands, 
the  robe  unfolded  to  show  the  bleeding,  sinking,  exhausted 
body  (Ecce  Homo\  the  slow  tramp  of  the  crosses  up  the  zigzag 


of  the  hill,  and  then  that  unutterable  Crucifixion, — such  a  scene 
of  bustle  and  confusion  and  sight-seeing,  one  of  the  side-crosses 
in  the  act  of  being  hoisted  up  by  ropes  which  stretch  across 
one  side  of  the  picture,  the  other  lying  on  the  ground,  and  just 
receiving  the  thief  who  is  being  laid  upon  it  and  unbound,  all 
in  a  crowd  of  soldiers,  workmen,  holiday  parties,  etc.,  with 
two  or  three  quiet  gazers,  and  the  heap  of  mourning  women 
round  the  foot  of  the  one  upright  sullen  cross,  bearing  the 
motionless  figure  with  its  head  bent  down  in  gloom.  There 
are  several  other  pictures  of  Tintoret's  that  I  should  like  to 
talk  about,  such  as  the  'Last  Judgement,'  another  'Cruci 
fixion,'  the  '  Descent  into  Hades,'  etc.,  but  I  have  not  time. 
But  Paul  Veronese,  whom  long  before  I  left  Venice  I  learned 
to  love  most  thoroughly,  must  have  a  few  words.  He  has 
nothing  of  Tintoret's  depth  and  awfulness,  but  his  most  rich 
and  pure  delight  in  beauty  (especially  of  colour),  without  an 
atom  of  sensuality,  in  any  sense  of  the  word,  and  united 
usually  to  most  vigorous  manhood,  is  inexpressibly  delightful. 
It  was  also  a  great  pleasure  to  learn  to  know  Bonifazio, 
Giorgione,  etc.,  not  to  speak  of  the  elder  school,  Carpaccio, 
Catena,  Cima  di  Conegliano,  etc.  About  John  Bellini  I  must 
have  some  talk  with  you  another  time.  I  must,  however,  just 
mention  (not  as  Venetian !)  one  most  glorious  Garofalo  in  the 
Academy.  On  my  return  from  Venice  with  the  Bullers  I  again 
saw  Padua ;  unluckily  we  were  much  hurried  at  S.  Antonio's 
Church,  one  Gothic  chapel  of  which  was  very  striking.  The 
Palazzo  della  Ragione  is  also  worth  telling  about  another  time. 
At  Verona  I  was  compelled  to  stay  another  day,  and  saw  San 
Zenone  and  the  Amphitheatre  very  enjoyably  in  company  with 
the  Bullers.  The  former,  as  you  perhaps  know,  is  one  of  the 
finest  and  most  characteristic  late  Lombard  churches,  and  full 
of  interest ;  the  cloister  is  very  exquisite,  with  hardly  a  particle 
of  ornament.  On  Friday  I  came  on  alone  to  Milan,  meaning 
to  start  for  the  Simplon  at  midnight,  but  was  ashamed  to  pass 
by  everything  unseen,  and  therefore  stayed  a  day.  Yesterday 
I  saw  first  of  all  Leonardo's  '  Last  Supper.'  I  will  only  say 
now  that  it  is  far  greater  even  in  its  ruin  and  bedaubment  than 
any  of  the  engravings ;  but  it  does  not  satisfy  me,  though  it  is 
impossible  not  to  love  it  very  dearly ;  it  reminds  me  of  one  of 




Manning's  sermons  ;  one  longs  for  a  little  more  honest  realism, 
even  at  the  cost  of  some  sweetness  and  refinement.  My  next 
sight  was  Sant'  Ambrogio,  a  most  peculiar  Lombard  Church 
of  the  ninth  century,  as  interesting  as  San  Zenone,  though 
ruder  and  less  beautiful.  Next  I  went  to  the  Brera  Gallery, 
where,  unluckily,  there  was  an  exhibition  of  shiny  new 
Milanese  pictures  hiding  the  old  ones  in  a  great  measure. 
Moreover,  we  were  turned  out  by  a  file  of  soldiers  at  a  very 
early  hour,  so  that  about  the  only  good  picture  I  had  any 
time  for  was  Raffaelle's  '  Marriage  of  the  Virgin';  and  I  caught 
flying  glimpses  of  a  glorious  Francia  and  a  similar  Garofalo. 
(By  the  way,  I  forgot  to  mention  two  most  beautiful  Peruginos 
in  the  Venice  Manfrini  Gallery,  both  of  which  I  took  at  first 
for  excellent  second-rate  RarTaelles.)  From  the  Brera  I  went 
to  the  Cathedral,  a  very  queer  building,  and  not  at  all  to  my 
taste.  Unluckily  the  haze  spoiled  the  view  from  the  highest 
point  of  the  lantern  that  can  be  ascended.  The  Cathedral  is 
like  a  monstrous  chapel  in  the  style  of  the  '  Mediaeval '  Court 
of  the  Great  Exhibition,  stuck  all  over  with  innumerable  large 
slender  pinnacles,  each  bearing  a  statue,  and  one  of  them  (to 
use  a  medical  phrase)  hypertrophied. 


HARDWICK,  September  2$t/i,  1854. 

.  .  .  My  last  was,  I  think,  closed  at  Isola  Bella.  ...  On 
the  nth  I  took  a  boat  to  Baveno  and  then  joined  the 
Simplon  diligence.  At  6  [A.M.]  one  of  the  passengers  and 
myself  got  out  at  Isella,  the  last  village  in  Italy,  and  walked 
up  the  pass  through  the  very  fine  gorge  of  Gondo  to  the 
village  of  Simplon,  where  we  breakfasted.  Just  as  we  were 
setting  out  afresh,  the  diligence  came  up ;  and  it  finally  over 
took  us  about  a  third  of  the  way  down  the  pass  on  the  Swiss 
side.  At  Brieg  I  found  great  difficulties  (of  expense,  time, 
etc.)  in  the  way  of  my  glacier  plans  ;  so  that,  to  cut  a  long 
story  short,  I  was  obliged  to  abandon  them,  and  started  next 
day  by  diligence  for  Turtman.  I  saw  at  Turtman  a  very 
pretty  fall,  and  made  arrangements  for  a  walk  next  day  over 


the  Loetschberg.  This  is  a  glacier  pass  from  the  Vallais  into 
the  Berne  valleys  a  few  miles  east  of  that  of  the  Gemmi,  and 
some  1200  or  1400  feet  higher;  the  walk  is  very  long  at  both 
ends.  I  was  a  good  deal  tired  when  I  reached  Kandersteg 
late  in  the  evening  after  a  day  of  magnificent  and  rarely  visited 
views  ;  however,  it  did  me  a  world  of  good.  Next  day  I 
thought  it  safer  to  do  no  more  than  wander  about  the 
Oeschinen  Thai,  luxuriating  in  the  alpine  air  and  vegetation 
and  the  splendid  glaciers  and  crags  around  me.  .  .  . 

On  Wednesday  morning  I  went  by  rail  to  Frankfurt,  and 
thence  again  to  Castel,  the  fortified  suburb  of  Mainz  across 
the  Rhine.  Here,  after  some  delay,  I  embarked,  but  before 
very  long  we  stuck  in  the  mud.  This  and  the  necessity  of 
returning  some  way  in  order  to  get  into  a  deeper  channel 
made  us  some  hours  late,  and  the  lout  of  a  captain  would  not 
venture  as  far  as  Cologne  that  night,  but  deposited  us  at 
Coblenz.  I  was  able,  however,  before  it  got  dark,  to  see  the 
best  part  of  the  Rhine,  which  fell  below  even  my  very  low 
expectations.  At  5  A.M.  we  again  embarked,  and  reached 
Cologne.  I  stayed  there  and  saw  the  Cathedral  and  some  of 
the  churches.  I  hardly  knew  what  to  expect  as  to  the  quality 
of  the  Cathedral,  but  its  size  is  not  very  great.  As  well  as  I 
could  make  out,  the  very  oldest  part  must  have  been  in  the 
usual  German  Gothic  style,  to  which  I  cannot  get  reconciled, — 
the  windows  all  elaborate  exaggerated  lancets  very  close 
together,  and  the  whole  stuck  over  with  a  forest  of  vapid 
pinnacles,  the  high-pitched  roof  being  the  redeeming  point. 
There  is,  however,  in  the  choir  (the  original  part)  much  very 
beautiful  work  inside  and  some  excellent  windows.  Being 
alone,  I  did  not  pay  the  extravagant  sum  for  admission  to  see 
the  shrine  of  the  Three  Kings ;  but  the  Dombild,  a  most 
lovely  specimen  of  early  Cologne  painting,  delighted  me 
exceedingly.  It  is  difficult  to  judge  properly  of  the  nave  and 
aisles,  as  they  have  at  present  a  false  roof,  but  the  general 
effect  is  good,  and  the  clerestory  undeniably  beautiful,  though 
wanting  in  real  freedom.  The  modern  carving  is  much 
praised,  but  seemed  to  me  hard  and  lifeless.  On  the  whole 
it  will,  when  finished,  be  a  noble  building,  but,  methinks, 
vastly  below  its  reputation,  and  not  to  be  compared  to  the 


better  English  Cathedrals  for  all  that  constitutes  real  beauty. 
I  much  doubt  whether  the  Germans  enter  at  all  into  the 
genuine  Gothic  spirit.  .  .  . 

As  at  present  advised,  I  hope  to  go  up  to  Cambridge  about 
the  loth.  I  have  two  freshmen  to  look  after,  and  this  will 
be  a  very  busy  term  with  me.  The  Le  Bas  Prize,  Mackenzie's 
jSssay,  the  Journal  of  Philology r,  the  new  Degree  Syndicate, 
besides  the  University  Library  and  its  Syndicate,  and  all  my 
own  readings  and  writings,  are  quite  enough  to  make  me  wish 
to  lose  no  time  in  getting  to  work.  I  have  said  very  little 
about  my  tour  on  the  whole ;  and  indeed  I  must  leave  that  as 
it  is  :  my  own  thoughts  are  hardly  collected,  and  will  by  de 
grees  find  their  own  places.  I  must  just,  however,  say  that 
the  politics  of  Italy  now  seem  to  me  a  more  fearful  problem 
than  ever.  Of  course  it  is  impossible  to  acquiesce  in  the 
occupation  of  the  country  by  unblending  foreigners;  but  I 
felt  often  tempted  to  think  that  the  N.  Italians  are  only  too 
lucky  and  honoured  in  being  governed  by  Germans.  Their 
degradation  did  not  at  all  seem  to  be  that  of  crushed  and  dis 
abled  men,  but  hopeless  decrepitude  of  body  and  spirit,  the 
slow  result  of  their  own  fearful  wickedness.  Piedmont  is  the 
only  visible  door  of  hope,  and  that  is  unsatisfactory  enough ; 
most  of  its  reputed  partiality  for  Protestantism  means  only,  I 
fear,  secularization,  often  of  the  most  unprincipled  kind.  Of 
course  life  can  return,  if  it  ever  return  at  all,  only  through  the 
Church  ;  but  that  is  just  the  most  seemingly  hopeless  region 
of  all. 

It  is  exceedingly  annoying  that  I  could  not  be  at  Cam 
bridge  when  you  were  there.  I  hope  you  found  time  to  see 
Ely.  The  choir  is  now  becoming  so  magnificent  that  there 
can  be  few  greater  architectural  glories  in  England. 


CAMBRIDGE,  November  ift/t,  1854. 

.  .  .  My  time  gets  more  and  more  occupied.  Besides 
the  Library  Syndicate  I  am  this  term  on  a  new  and  important 
Syndicate  for  reforming  Little-go  and  the  Pol.  You  may  guess 


we  are  pretty  active,  as  we  met  yesterday  and  meet  again 
to-morrow.  We  have  already  agreed  to  many  recommenda 
tions,  but  it  remains  to  be  seen  whether  the  Senate  will  adopt 
them ;  inter  alia  we  propose  to  abolish  Paley's  Moral  Philo 
sophy.  I  have  also  been  appointed  a  Trinity  Examiner,  and 
shall  have  to  take  the  Butler's  Sermons  and  Whewell  at 
Christmas,  and  the  Gorgias,  Butler's  Analogy^  and  Church 
History  in  the  May.  I  have  also  (without  my  consent  being 
asked)  been  made  a  classical  examiner  for  the  Pol  (Cic.  de  off. 
iii.  and  the  Hippolytus),  which  is  a  great  bore,  as  it  involves 
coming  up  in  the  middle  of  January. 

Then  I  am  getting  on  well  with  Mackenzie's  Essay ,  and 
have  plenty  to  do  for  the  Journal  of  Philology  to  get  it  out  by 
the  end  of  the  month.  This  evening  I  have  been  correcting 
the  proof  of  a  stiff  but,  I  suppose,  valuable  paper  of  H. 
Browne's  on  Clement  of  Alexandria's  N.  T.  chronology, — a 
slow  and  laborious  process  from  the  multiplicity  of  figures. 
I  am  also  at  work  as  usual  at  the  University  Library  MSS., 
and  occasionally  do  a  little  at  Greek  Testament,  as  a  treat.  I 
have  just  finished  Heartsease  with  much  delight ;  but,  with  all 
its  beauty  and  wisdom,  I  can  hardly  enjoy  it  so  much  as  the 
Heir  of  Redclyffe.  But  it  says  much  for  Miss  Yonge  that  one 
does  not  get  sick  of  Violet;  and  Theodora  is  perfect,  and 
Percy  scarcely  less.  I  have  nibbled  at  a  very  different  book, 
Ferrier's  long-expected  Institutes  of  Metaphysic^  which  is  read 
able  and  seemingly  not  without  value ;  it  is  at  all  events  some 
thing  to  find  an  absolutist  Scotchman,  however  fantastic  a  one. 
I  should  like  much  to  know  your  views  of  Maurice's  new  book 
on  Sacrifice.  There  is  nothing,  I  believe,  that  positively 
repels  me  (as  parts  of  the  Essays  did),  and  there  is  much 
(especially  the  last  sermon)  which  makes  him  dearer  than 
ever.  The  Working  Men's  College  is  far  more  hopeful ;  it 
does  seem  as  if  he  had  at  last  found  a  thoroughly  healthy 
modus  of  social  improvement ;  and  is  it  not  grand,  Ruskin's 
joining  in  the  teaching  ? 

Time  and  space  alike  are  wanting  to  do  more  than  allude 
to  the  one  engrossing  subject  of  these  fearful  days  of  suspense. 
It  is  somewhat  paradoxical,  but  I  believe  I  feel  far  more  happy 
than  otherwise  even  at  the  losses  we  have  sustained ;  every 


despatch  seems  to  carry  fresh  assurance  that  God  has  not 
ceased  to  go  forth  with  our  armies,  even  though  He  may 
allow  every  man  in  the  Crimea  to  perish  by  the  enemy.  Some 
times  I  fancy  it  is  well  for  us  Churchmen  to  have  our  love  for 
England  thus  quickened  and  deepened  before  we  are  tempted 
to  hate  her  for  outrages  against  Christ's  Church.  But  I  be 
lieve  these  are  faithless  thoughts,  though  they  will  come. — 
Ever  yours  affectionately,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 


HARDWICK,  December  30^,  1854  ; 
January  2.nd,  1855. 

You  will  have  seen  that  the  new  Theological  Tripos 
was  passed  '  unanimously ' ;  the  truth  is,  there  were  but  few 
in  the  Senate  House.  Some  who  objected  were  unwilling  to 
give  the  first  nonplacet ;  others  (myself  included)  did  not  dis 
cover  that  the  graces  were  being  read  till  the  whole  was  over. 
I  am  not,  however,  very  sorry ;  the  present  plan  is  infinitely 
less  objectionable  than  the  other,  and  perhaps  it  is  not  alto 
gether  amiss  that  the  experiment  should  be  tried.  Some 
changes  of  detail  will  by  and  bye  have  to  be  made ;  e.g.  it  is 
not  only  ridiculous  but  very  mischievous  that  candidates  for 
Honours  in  Theology  should  be  required  to  know  no  more 
Church  History  than  that  of  the  first  three  centuries  and  the 
Reformation.  The  proposed  changes  in  Little-go  and  the  Pol 
do  not  come  before  the  Senate  till  next  term,  when  we  shall 
also,  I  suppose,  have  a  report  from  the  St.  Mary's  Syndicate, 
which  is  at  present  divided  against  itself.  Whewell  and 
Willis  are  violent  upholders  of  Golgotha  and  the  '  preaching 
house '  theory  of  St.  Mary's :  Harvey  Goodwin  (whom  I  am 
glad  to  see  appointed  Hulsean  Lecturer)  is,  I  believe,  leader 
of  the  opposition. 

There  has  been  some  excitement  at  Cambridge  about 
Rowland  Williams'  sermons  before  the  University  this  month. 
Unluckily  I  did  not  hear  any  of  them;  but  I  suspect  they 
must  have  been  really  very  heterodox,  and  certainly  very  odd, 
though,  it  is  said,  beautiful  compositions.  Selwyn's  sermons 
were,  as  you  may  well  suppose,  a  great  treat.  It  was  very 


interesting  to  see  how  with  a  mind  unphilosophical  and  nearly 
untheological  he  was  driven  by  the  realities  of  his  life  to  feed 
on  the  highest  Catholic  truths.  The  subject  of  his  Ramsden 
sermon  seemed  perpetually  to  dwell  in  his  mind,  — '  the 
prayers  of  the  Son  of  God.'  It  was  amusing  to  see  how  he 
seemed  to  fancy  that  all  Cambridge  was  troubled  with  doubts 
about  Unity  and  in  danger  of  going  over  to  Rome  !  But 
his  speech  at  the  Propagation  Society  meeting  was  the 
grandest  thing  of  all.  He  began  in  a  low  voice  with  adminis 
tering  one  of  the  most  terrible  rebukes  I  ever  heard  in  the 
gentlest  and  most  gentlemanly  form,  and  then  spoke  with 
extraordinary  rapidity  for  a  considerable  while,  every  minute 
making  one  feel  more  strongly  the  depth  of  his  wisdom. 
Dear  old  Blunt  then  said  a  few  words,  which  I  could  not 
catch ;  and  Harvey  Goodwin  made  a  speech  which  would 
have  been  good  at  an  earlier  hour,  but  was  then  too  long  and 
fell  flat.  I  hope  we  shall  not  lose  altogether  the  quickening 
effects  of  his  visits  to  Cambridge. 

One  of  the  most  important  events  of  the  year 
1855,  as  showing  Hort's  active  interest  in  other 
matters  than  those  directly  concerning  a  scholar,  was 
the  establishment  of  a  Working  Men's  College  at  Cam 
bridge.  In  the  following  year  he,  along  with  Maurice, 
assisted  at  the  inauguration  of  a  similar  institution  at 
Oxford,  one  of  the  very  few  occasions  on  which  he 
made  a  public  speech.  On  the  occasion  of  this  visit 
to  Oxford  he  took  an  ad  eundem  degree.  His  diary 
and  correspondence  about  this  time  are  for  some 
reason  very  scanty.  The  Crimean  War  was  much  in 
his  mind.  His  thoughts  on  the  tragedy  of  the 
war  were  given  a  personal  turn  by  the  death  at 
Malta  of  a  young  officer's  wife,  for  whom  he  and  his 
friend  Blunt  had  a  great  regard.  Their  feeling  about 
the  war,  thus  intensified  by  sympathy  with  the  sorrow 
of  common  friends,  took  shape  in  the  anonymous 





joint  publication  of  a  little  volume  of  verse  called 
Peace  in  War.  The  last  only  of  the  poems,  that 
called  '  Tintern,'  was  by  Hort ;  it  was  suggested  by 
a  walk  taken  in  October  1855  to  the  ruined  abbey, 
which  was  one  of  the  chief  delights  in  the  neigh 
bourhood  of  his  new  Chepstow  home.  The  poem, 
somewhat  difficult  and  compressed  as  is  its  style,  ex 
hibits  a  command  of  language  which  the  writer  did 
not  at  all  times  possess.  Apart  from  its  beauty, 
this,  his  one  original  poetic  utterance,  is  interesting  on 
that  ground  alone,  but  it  is  perhaps  chiefly  remark 
able  biographically  as  evidence  of  a  mind  which 
regarded  every  passing  event  not  in  isolation,  but  as 
part  of  the  great  scheme  of  human  life,  which  even 
in  early  manhood  *  saw  life  steadily,  and  saw  it 
whole.'  The  occasion  which  had  prompted  his  friend's 
verses  is  merged  in  the  thought  of  the  general  tragedy 
of  the  war,  while  the  war  itself  is  treated  as  part  of 
the  universal  mystery  of  pain  and  death  ;  and,  charac 
teristically,  pain  becomes  the  ground  of  a  manly 
optimism  ;  the  '  peace '  is  like  that  of  which  a  more 
recent  poet  speaks  : 

Not  Peace  that  grows  by  Lethe,  scentless  flower, 
There  in  white  languors  to  decline  and  cease  ; 
But  Peace  whose  names  are  also  Rapture,  Power, 
Clear  sight  and  Love,  for  these  are  parts  of  Peace.1 


So  stood  the  clustering  hills 

About  the  sacred  nest, 
When  first  stern  English  wills 

Disturbed  its  grassy  rest  ; 
So  glowed  or  gloomed  the  narrowed  sky 
On  labouring  limb  and  praying  eye. 

1   William  Watson,  'Wordsworth's  Grave.' 


When  round  the  crumbling  walls 

May's  brightest  blooms  are  shed, 
And  earth's  fresh  glory  falls 

Alive  athwart  the  dead  ; 
The  heart  within  us  will  rejoice, 
And  answer  with  its  human  voice. 

For  then  her  choicest  stores 
The  foster-mother  brings, 
And  duteously  adores 

Her  ancient  priests  and  kings  ; 
New  decking  after  winter's  rage 
The  tomb  that  marks  a  perished  age. 

And  we  are  of  to-day  ; 

The  spring  in  leaf  and  bud 
More  meetly  than  decay 

Beats  time  to  dancing  blood  : 
Our  wayward  eye  will  scarcely  brook 
On  unattempered  death  to  look. 

But  holier  yet  the  sight, 

When  summer's  glare  is  gone, 
And  chill  autumnal  light 

Is  searching  every  stone, 
Till  faint  amid  the  paling  blue 
Calm  golden  stars  steal  trembling  through. 

For  now  in  lonely  air 

The  ruin  lonely  stands  ; 
The  beauty  still  is  there 

That  grew  by  human  hands : 
The  year's  young  glory  dying  lies  ; 
But  this  endures  through  wintry  skies. 

Through  no  deceitful  mask 

The  foster-mother  still 
Pursues  her  gracious  task, 

Is  bright  or  dark  at  will : 
The  promise  of  her  spring  were  less 
But  for  her  autumn  mournfulness. 


And  giving  of  her  mirth, 

And  taking  of  their  tears, 
She  soothes  mankind  from  birth 

Through  all  the  fitful  years  : 
The  face  whose  gladness  wakes  their  own 
Diviner  yet  in  grief  is  known. 

'Tis  better  far  to  stand 

Full  face  to  face  with  death, 
To  grip  his  grinding  hand, 

To  feel  his  stiffening  breath, 
Than  heap  vain  veils  to  hide  away 
The  tokens  of  his  certain  sway. 

For  when  we  know  him  well, 

We  know  him  conquered  too  ; 
Unknown,  the  depths  of  hell 

Breed  phantoms  ever  new  ; 
But  they  who  dwell  within  the  light 
Need  fear  no  shade  that  haunts  the  night. 

Deep  autumn's  solemn  voice 

Is  music  to  the  ear, 
When  we  would  fain  rejoice, 

But  cannot  stifle  fear  : 
Such  evening  tones  give  strength  to  gaze 
On  threatening  dawns  of  latter  days. 

For,  while  the  hurrying  years 

Flash  by  to  join  the  past, 
A  swarm  of  nameless  fears 

Buzz  round  us  thick  and  fast  ; 
We  cower  from  ghosts  of  coming  ill, 
And  hug  the  present  closer  still. 

Its  joys  are  all  we  crave, 

Its  voice  seems  always  true  ; 
We  long  that  one  deep  grave 

Might  swallow  old  and  new  ; 
Cling  blindly  to  life's  outer  crust, 
And  only  live  because  we  must. 


The  works  of  elder  time 

Afflict  us  with  their  peace  ; 
Their  presence  seems  a  crime  ; 

Though  dead  they  will  not  cease  : 
In  vain  we  strive  alone  to  dwell, 
Unbidden  faces  mock  the  spell. 

And  round  the  aimless  dance 

Of  mad  unrest  within 
The  outer  lightnings  glance, 

World-thunders  shake  their  din  ; 
From  nook  to  nook  in  grief  or  dread 
The  pulses  of  the  tempest  spread. 

With  fiercer,  blinder  pride 

Death  gluts  his  shortened  reign  ; 
His  cunning  poisons  glide 

Through  many  a  living  vein  ; 
And  swifter  struck  with  sudden  might 
His  thousands  pass  from  mortal  sight. 

Yet  blest  be  every  power 

That  breaks  the  dreadful  trance  ; 
In  such  tumultuous  hour 

The  hosts  of  truth  advance  ; 
And  welcome  all,  though  rough  its  guise, 
That  rends  the  film  from  dreamy  eyes. 

What  but  a  coward  breast 

Would  sigh  for  only  calm  ? 
And  he,  that  woos  his  rest, 

Knows  neither  peace  nor  palm  ; 
But  richer  joys  will  heal  the  smarts 
Of  valiant  arms  and  loving  hearts. 

Then  ask  we  not  the  tomb 
To  render  back  the  past. 
From  time's  all-fruitful  womb 

The  fairest  springs  the  last ; 
And  long-forgotten  years  obey 
The  works  and  glories  of  to-day. 


Yet  'mid  the  roaring  throng 

Tis  well  to  hear  arise 
The  silent  evening  song 

Of  yonder  autumn  skies, 
Bring  back  yon  roofless  aisles,  and  hold 
Strange  converse  with  the  times  of  old. 

So  from  the  inner  shrine 

Yet  holier  strains  may  steal, 
And  all  the  heart  divine 

Of  earthly  forms  reveal ; 
Weak  moulds  of  dust  no  longer  hide 
The  dead  and  living  side  by  side. 


Then  back  to  earth  once  more. 

She  hath  her  glory  too  ; 
Nor  lacks  she  heavenly  lore 

For  them  that  read  her  true  ; 
And  changeful  gleams  may  show  aright 
The  changeless  and  eternal  light. 

When  Christmas  bells  shall  ring 

Across  the  lifeless  snow, 
We  too  will  gladly  sing 

The  joy  above  the  woe  ; 
No  storm  of  earth  shall  keep  afar 
The  peace  that  cannot  turn  to  war. 

And,  when  through  budding  trees 

Blithe  Easter  chimes  shall  bound, 
Tossed  on  the  quickening  breeze 

In  waves  of  throbbing  sound, 
We  will  not  scorn  the  bliss  of  spring 
For  all  our  autumn  murmuring  ; 

But  cherish,  as  we  may, 

The  living  fire  that  burns 
In  growth  and  in  decay, 

In  light  and  shade  by  turns  ; 
And  greet  through  veils  of  sunlit  tears 
The  perfect  sum  of  deathless  years. 


The  authorship  of  '  Tintern '  was  not  disclosed ; 
it  was  guessed,  however,  by  Daniel  Macmillan. 

In  1856  Hort  took  priest's  orders  at  Ely.  In  the 
same  year  he  examined,  for  the  first  time,  for  the 
Natural  Sciences  Tripos.  The  Councils  of  the  Work 
ing  Men's  College  and  of  the  Cambridge  Philosophical 
Society  occupied  much  time.  Much  also  was  given  to 
the  composition  of  the  monograph  on  S.  T.  Coleridge, 
which  appeared  in  the  Cambridge  Essays  for  1856. 
The  essay  itself  is  compressed,  and  its  scope  could 
hardly  be  indicated  by  any  attempt  at  further  abstrac 
tion  ;  it  considers  Coleridge  as  a  man,  a  poet,  a  theo 
logian,  a  philosopher,  and  shows  a  remarkably  deep 
and  wide  acquaintance  both  with  Coleridge  and  with 
Coleridge's  teachers.  Mr.  Leslie  Stephen  once  spoke 
of  it  to  me  as  the  only  serious  attempt  known  to  him 
to  give  a  coherent  account  of  Coleridge's  philosophy. 
The  nervous  vigour  of  the  style  seems  to  show  that 
composition,  in  spite  of  the  difficulty  of  the  subject, 
came  easier  to  the  writer  at  this  age  (twenty-eight) 
than  at  most  periods  of  his  life ;  but  the  appearance 
may  after  all  be  deceptive. 

In  the  May  term  Hort  had  a  short  experience  of 
the  work  of  a  college  lecturer.  In  the  Long  Vacation 
he  spent  nearly  two  months  in  Switzerland,  chiefly  in 
company  with  Lightfoot.  The  principal  climbing 
event  of  the  tour  was  the  ascent  of  the  Jungfrau,  of 
which  Hort's  own  description  may  be  read  in  the 
Eggischhorn  climbing-book.  Later  in  the  month  he 
engaged  the  afterwards  famous  guide,  Melchior  Ander- 
egg,  with  whom  he  crossed  by  a  little  known  pass  from 
Schwarenbach  to  Sierre  in  the  Rhone  valley.  The  rest 
of  the  time  was  spent  mainly  in  the  Mont  Blanc  region, 
in  company  partly  with  four  other  Fellows  of  Trinity, 


— Lightfoot,  the  Rev.  J.  LI.  Davies,  Mr.  F.  Vaughan 
Hawkins,  and  Mr.  (now  the  Rev.  Dr.)  H.  W.  Watson. 
The  chief  object  of  the  tour  had  been  to  ascend  Mont 
Blanc  from  the  St.  Gervais  side  ;  four  attempts  were 
made,  but  all  were  frustrated  by  bad  weather.  Hort, 
who  took  part  in  the  last  three  of  the  excursions,  wrote 
very  full  accounts  to  his  parents  and  to  Ellerton,  some 
of  which,  familiar  as  the  ground  is  now,  are  interesting 
as  showing  what  kind  of  difficulties  confronted  the 
pioneers  of  the  science  of  mountaineering.  The  story 
of  these  experiences  is  also  told  by  Mr.  Vaughan 
Hawkins  in  Peaks,  Passes,  and  Glaciers  (ist  series, 

1859,  PP.  58-74)- 

A  notable  feature  of  these  expeditions  was  Hort's 
attempt  at  photography  in  the  high  Alps.  He 
carried  to  considerable  heights  a  full-plate  camera  of 
the  cumbrous  make  of  the  period,  and  took  several 
pictures.  Unluckily  the  waxed  paper  was  kept  too 
long  undeveloped,  and  all  Hort's  efforts,  assisted  by 
his  friend  W.  T.  Kingsley,  with  whom  he  did  much 
photographic  work,  could  not  produce  a  presentable 


CAMBRIDGE,  February  $th,  1855. 

...  I  have  just  been  reading  in  the  sheets  of  Kingsley's 
Westward  Jfo/a.  capital  description  of  the  attempt  of  the 
Spaniards  to  effect  a  lodgement  in  Munster  in  1580,  and  have 
been  so  much  interested  by  it  that  I  daresay  I  shall  some  day 
make  an  effort  to  discover  what  your  books 1  may  contain 
about  it.  Kingsley's  novel  is  the  very  thing  to  come  out 
now, — judging  by  so  much  of  it  as  I  have  read ;  and  I  think 
you  will  enjoy  it  thoroughly.  The  only  fault  I  have  to  find 
with  it  is  that  he  will  not  leave  those  poor  Stuarts  alone. 

1  Bradshaw  had  recently  become  a  master  at  St.  Columba's  College, 
near  Dublin. 


To  THE  REV.  GARNONS  WILLIAMS  (his  Brother-in-law) 

CAMBRIDGE,  March  8th,  1855. 

...  I  am  glad  you  find  some  spirit  still  left  even  in  the 
printed  text  of  Selwyn's  Sermons.  To  myself,  who  heard 
three  of  them  delivered,  they  seem  in  reading  almost  tame  as 
compared  with  what  they  sounded  from  the  pulpit, — as  indeed 
I  felt  was  likely  to  be  the  case,  when  I  heard  them.  Now  it 
is  necessary  to  conjure  up  his  face  and  voice  and  combine  them 
with  the  words,  before  I  can  really  enter  into  the  sermons. 
This  fact,  however,  does  not  make  them  less  valuable  to 
readers.  It  only  confirms  my  previous  impression  that  his 
greatness  lies  rather  in  his  energy,  resolution,  generosity, 
and  singleness  of  heart  than  in  any  specially  intellectual 

We  have  lately  had  a  magnificent  gift  to  our  College 
Library.  Dear  old  Archdeacon  Hare  left  us  his  whole  German 
library  of  3000  volumes,  by  far  the  best  in  this  country,  and 
rich  in  valuable  books  and  tracts  hard  to  meet  with  even  in 
Germany ;  he  also  sent  a  message  that  he  would  have  given 
us  his  classical  and  theological  books  besides,  but  that  he 
feared  to  burden  us  with  duplicates  of  books  that  we  had 
already.  Mrs.  Hare,  however,  entreated  that  we  would  send 
some  one  to  choose  out  any  that  we  pleased.  Before  he 
arrived,  however,  she  had  herself  picked  out  and  sent  off  some 
valuable  large  serial  works,  for  fear  we  might  have  scruples 
about  taking  them  !  Altogether  we  have  from  4500  to  5000 
volumes.  He  has  also  given  us  busts  of  Coleridge  and  of 
your  bishop,1  which  I  have  not  yet  seen.  Poor  Thirlwall  is 
sadly  cut  up,  I  hear  from  those  who  saw  him  at  the  funeral. 
Hare  was  his  dearest  friend ;  and  the  very  great  benefits  which 
they  have  both  rendered  to  English  literature  were  mainly 
connected  with  the  employments  in  which  they  were  associated 
together.  Well,  here  is  the  end  of  a  sheet;  so  I  will  say 
good-night. — Ever  your  affectionate  brother, 


1  Viz.  the  Bishop  of  St.  David's. 

AGE  26 




CAMBRIDGE,  March  nth  and  2Otk,  1855. 

You  ask  about  Ellis. 

knew  him  personally. 


I  am  sorry  to  say  ;  but,  when  a  freshman,  I  often  saw  him.  I 
should  suspect  that  he  knows  more  than  any  man  living,  and 
is  among  the  deepest  thinkers ;  he  is  also  one  of  the  purest 
and  humblest  Christians.  But  his  living  martyrdom  cannot 
last  much  longer ;  for  months  he  has  not  been  able  to  move  a 

I  have  heard  but  little  about  dear  old  Hare.  One  hardly 
knew  how  one  loved  him  till  he  was  gone.  You  gave  me  a 
sad  shock  in  writing  about  him ;  telling  me  that  I  "  must  gird 

up  my  loins  and  take  up  the "  here  the  page  ended  ;  when 

I  turned  it,  and  saw  the  next  words  "  prophetic  mantle,"  they 
gave  a  thorough  chill.  But  just  then  the  conclusion  of  that 
precious  sermon  on  Saul,  which  I  remember  so  well  describing 
to  you  as  we  shouldered  our  way  through  the  confusion  of 
Bishopsgate  Street,  occurred  to  me,  and  relieved  me  by 
making  me  feel  that  in  that  sense  I  could  accept  your  words 
and  wish  their  fulfilment,  to  "  desire  not  the  power  of  the 
prophets  but  their  obedience,  not  to  speak  inspired  words,  but 
to  have  the  humble  and  contrite  heart  which  He  does  not 
despise."  But  enough  of  this. 

...  A  large  number  of  books  worth  mention  have  come 
out  lately,  but  I  must  only  speak  of  one  or  two.  First  and 
foremost  is  Kingsley's  Westward  Ho!  which  is  published 
to-morrow.  He  has  quite  surpassed  himself;  all  his  old 
energy  and  geniality,  tempered  with  thorough  self-restraint  and 
real  Christian  wisdom.  The  suffering  and  anxiety  he  has 
endured  now  for  some  time  have  obviously  much  purified  and 
chastened  him,  and  rather  increased  than  lessened  his  strength 
and  elasticity.  I  hardly  know  a  more  wholesome  book  for  any 
one  to  read.  Personally  I  feel  deeply  indebted  to  it,  though 
I  suppose  its  lessons,  like  most  others,  will  prove  transitory 
enough.  Don't  smile ;  but  my  first  impulse,  after  reading  it, 
was  to  wish  myself  chaplain  of  the  Dauntless.  For  the  first 

i  Robert  Leslie  Ellis. 


time,  while  I  have  been  writing  this  down,  the  thought  of  one 
John  Brimblecombe  has  flashed  upon  me,  as  likely  when  you 
read  the  book  to  appear  whimsically  to  you  to  have  suggested 
to  me  that  wish ;  but  the  fact  is  I  never  thought  of  him  and 
his  chaplaincy  in  connexion  with  the  subject  till  this  moment. 
It  is  some  time  since  I  read  the  book,  and  the  wish  is  not  yet 
quite  melted  away,  but  I  suppose  it  is  sufficiently  fantastic.  I 
ought  to  say  that  Westward  Ho  /  will  very  possibly  not  be 
popular.  Some  will  say  that  it  is  too  like  a  book  of  travels ; 
others,  like  a  common  novel,  etc.  etc.  Its  great  fault  is  its 
dearness,  so  that  I  must  wait  for  the  cheap  edition.  Kingsley 
has  also  printed  (anonymously)  a  little  tract  for  soldiers, 
Brave  Words  for  Brave  Men,  a  dilution  of  a  passage  in  that 
astonishing  sermon  of  Maurice's  on  'the  Word  of  God 
conquering  by  sacrifice.'  It  is  very  spirited  and  good,  but 
not  all  I  could  wish.  Great  numbers  have  been  already  sold 
for  distribution.  Maurice's  Edinburgh  Lectures,  and  also  those 
on  Learning  and  Working,  will  soon  be  out  in  one  volume ; 
I  have  not  seen  them.  Parker  has  started  as  a  speculation 
two  yearly  volumes  like  reviews,  Oxford  Essays  and  Cambridge 
Essays.  The  latter  will  be  out  in  the  autumn ;  the  former  has 
been  out  some  weeks.  They  are  mainly  pleasant,  but  not 
very  substantial  reading,  except  one  invaluable  paper  by 
Froude  on  the  study  of  English  History,  full  of  the  best  kind 
of  toryism.  Trench  has  brought  out  another  nice  little  book 
on  the  English  language,  Past  and  Present.  Another  genuine 
poet  has  arisen,  to  whom  I  hope  some  day  to  introduce  you, 
one  Coventry  Patmore.  His  (anonymous)  Angel  in  the  House 
is  coming  into  notice,  at  least  at  Cambridge ;  but  his  previous 
volume  (Tamerton  Church  Tower),  which  I  have  read  to-day, 
is  better  still. 

Do  pray  give  me  a  good  long  letter  very  soon,  such  a  letter 
as  you  used  sometimes  to  write  in  days  when  you  had  neither 
wife  nor  bairns ;  for  I  am  always  less  bad  when  there  is  any 
thing  of  you  to  help  me.  All  love  to  aforesaid  wife  and 
bairns. — Ever  your  affectionate  friend, 


AGE  2( 



HARDWICK,  April  io//z,  1    R 
LLOWES,1  April  \f>th,      }      55' 

You  have  been,  I  think,  a  little  wilful  in  your  way 
of  understanding  my  implied  accusation.  I  never  charged 
you  with  writing  worse  letters  in  quality,  since  you  became  a 
noun  of  multitude.  But  I  have  enough  materialism  in  me  to 
think  that  quantity  has  its  merits  as  well  as  quality ;  and  I  do 
say  that  for  the  last  three  years  your  letters  have  been  too 
often  seasoned  with  'the  soul  of  wit,'  to  a  height  unpleasing 
to  my  dainty  palate  and  insatiable  maw. 

The  London  trip  was  a  very  pleasant  one.  We  are  think 
ing  of  establishing  a  Working  Men's  College  in  Cambridge, 
something  like  that  in  London.  They  were  going  on  the 
Thursday  to  have  the  tea  which  opens  their  term,  and 
Davies  wanted  some  of  us  to  come  and  be  present,  which  I 
was  not  sorry  to  do,  as  I  wanted  much  to  consult  him  and 
Maurice  on  some  points.  So  Vesey  2  and  I  went  up  together, 
he  being  quartered  on  the  Butlers,  I  on  Davies.  We  had  a 
pleasant  evening  enough  ;  I  sat  next  to  Maurice  and  had  some 
talk.  Friday  was  chiefly  spent  with  Vesey  and  Butler,3  seeing 
the  great  new  church  in  Margaret  Street.  By  the  way,  you 
ask  about  Butler,  as  if  you  ought  to  have  known  him.  But 
the  fact  is,  he  has  but  just  taken  his  degree,  being  senior 
classic.  He  is  a  son  of  the  late  Dean  of  Peterborough,  brother 
of  Spencer  Butler  (in  the  year  below  ours),  an  old  Rugby 
friend  of  mine,  and  of  George  Butler,  who  was  my  host  at 
Oxford  when  I  was  ordained.  He  is  a  very  noble  fellow; 
indeed  I  do  not  think  I  love  any  one  now  at  Cambridge  so 
well.  I  dined  with  the  Butlers  in  Westbournia,  and  then  we 
went  to  Exeter  Hall  to  hear  Mendelssohn's  *  Lobgesang '  and 
Mozart's  '  Requiem.'  Next  day  I  dined  with  Maurice  alone 
at  two,  and  then  had  a  thoroughly  enjoyable  talk  with  him  of 
two  or  three  hours  about  the  College  and  other  matters,  and 

1  In  Herefordshire,  the  parish  of  his  brother-in-law,  the  Rev.  Garnons 

2  The  Rev.  F.  G.  (now  Archdeacon)  Vesey. 

3  H.  Montagu  Butler,  now  Master  of  Trinity  College,  Cambridge. 


he  gave  me  his  new  book,  Learning  and  Working^  which  is 
worth  its  weight  in  gold.  Next  morning  I  went  to  Davies' 
church,  and  heard  him  preach ;  in  the  afternoon  to  Lincoln's 
Inn,  and  heard  a  good  sermon  from  Maurice;  and  in  the 
evening  to  St.  Bartholomew's,  Stepney,  where  Kingsley  was  to 
preach  for  Vivian,  Davies'  friend  and  neighbour.  Kingsley 
was  almost  late ;  he  looked  very  haggard,  worn,  and  wild ;  but 
the  sermon  was  one  which  few  who  heard  it  are  likely  ever  to 
forget.  You  know  I  don't  like  his  printed  sermons  in  general, 
but  this  was  quite  another  thing.  It  showed  even  more  than 
Westward  Ho!  how  deeply  his  distresses  had  worked  in 
purifying  and  chastening  him,  and  making  him  more  of  a 
Christian,  as  well  as  more  of  a  man.  After  church  he  came 
for  a  few  moments  into  the  parsonage.  I  shook  hands  with 
him,  but  he  had  forgotten  my  face,  for  which  he  was  almost 
ready  to  go  on  his  knees  when  I  told  him  my  name; 
but  we  had  no  opportunity  for  talk.  As  he  was  going, 
the  drawing-room  being  crowded,  I  went  after  him  into  the 
room  where  the  hats  were,  with  Vivian  and  some  one  else. 
When  he  saw  me,  he  reproached  himself  violently  for  having 
been  on  the  point  of  going  without  saying  good-bye,  took  me 
by  both  hands,  and  asked  when  we  could  really  meet. 
Fortunately  he  will  be  in  London  (he  even  talks  of  Cam 
bridge)  all  June,  and  indeed  will  be  hanging  about  London 
most  of  the  year,  as  he  is  going  to  rebuild  his  parsonage  in  a 
less  noxious  spot.  When  I  saw  and  heard  and  felt  him  again, 
I  thought  of  what  you  had  said  last  summer,  and  forgave  you 
for  your  preference  of  him  to  Maurice,  though  my  own 
judgement  was  unchanged.  The  grip  of  his  hand  would  be  a 
cordial  for  almost  any  ill ;  and  it  seems  impossible  to  despair 
of  anything  while  he  is  among  the  living. 

Llowes,  April  i6th. — I  meant  to  have  finished  this  letter 
before,  but  find  it  hard  to  get  time  for  writing  here.  .  .  .  The 
new  church  here,  though  small,  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
modern  ones  I  have  seen ;  it  has  its  blemishes,  but  it  is  a  real 
luxury  to  look  at  it,  and  would  be  still  more  so  to  have  for 
one's  own  church.  Yesterday  I  preached  my  first  sermon,  but 
it  was  necessarily  only  in  the  schoolroom. 

...  I  ought  not  to  forget  to  mention  Maurice's  Lectures 

AGE  27 



on  Learning  and  Working  and  on  Roman  Religion.  They 
are  some  of  the  profoundest,  cleverest,  and  most  delightful 
things  he  has  written,  and  full  of  invaluable  hints  on  education 
and  politics.  I  must  now  have  done,  only  expressing  a  hope 
that  you  will  continue  to  uphold  the  honour  of  wife  and 
children  (to  whom  all  love)  by  the  excellence  of  your  corre 
spondence. — Ever  yours  affectionately, 



HARDWICK,  October  2nd,  1855. 

...  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  have  not  read  more  than  half  a 
volume  of  Jowett1  as  yet.  But  the  day  before  yesterday  I 
read  his  essay  on  Natural  Religion.  Few,  if  any,  of  the 
thoughts  were  new  to  me ;  but  it  gives  one  a  high  impression 
of  his  goodness  and  wisdom.  The  facts  (at  least  the  modern 
facts)  are  indisputable,  but  is  not  his  conclusion,  so  far  as  he 
has  a  conclusion,  blank  scepticism  ?  After  all  he  says  very 
little  about  physical  'theology,'  which  seems  to  be  your 
subject  just  now.  I  confess  I  have  thought  and  care  com 
paratively  little  for  that  aspect  of  the  matter,  and  have  a  strong 
Job-like  feeling,  "The  deep  saith,  It  is  not  in  me,"  etc.,  but  I 
should  much  like  a  talk  with  you. 


CAMBRIDGE,  October  24^,  1855. 

.  .  .  Mackenzie's  Essay  is  at  last  really  published,  I  am 
happy  to  say,  and  looks  very  well.  I  forgot  to  order  to-day 
a  copy  for  my  father,  as  he  asked  me,  but  I  will  send  one 
to-morrow.  We  have  had  several  visitors  the  last  few  days, 
which  partly  accounts  for  the  flight  of  time.  One  of  these 
is  a  friend  of  mine  who  has  been  away  some  years,  and  is 
a  brother  worshipper  of  brambles.  We  spent  a  considerable 
part  of  a  day  in  looking  and  talking  over  the  large  bundle 

1  Viz.  Professor  Jowett's  edition  of  St.  Paul's  Epistles  to  the  Thessa- 
lonians,  Galatians>  and  Romans. 


that  I  had  brought  home  this  year.  But  it  was  curious  to 
find  how  few  of  my  forms  he  could  recognize  as  Worces 
tershire  friends.  Another  visitor,  who  is  here  still,  is  Dr. 
Tregelles  of  Plymouth,  whose  life  is  completely  given  up  to 
the  restoration  of  the  Greek  text  of  the  New  Testament, 
and  whom  I  was  therefore  particularly  glad  to  know  personally, 
though  we  had  exchanged  several  letters  before. 


CAMBRIDGE,  November  \%th  and  26tk,  1855. 

My  dear  Blunt — The  time  has  slipped  away  unaccountably 
without  my  writing,  but  I  will  not  waste  any  more  in  making 
excuses.  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  anything  more  to  say 
about  the  subject  of  subjects.1  I  suppose  you  are  right  in 
thinking  that  the  last  generation  did  not  die  away  in  the  same 
fearful  way.  This  we  owe  partly,  I  suppose,  to  their  and  their 
fathers'  escapes ;  partly  also,  perhaps,  to  the  fierce  and  furious 
life  which  we  live  within  nowadays;  at  least  I  have  not 
noticed  such  mortality  among  thick-skinned  and  tepid  persons. 
But  if  we  live  fewer  years,  we  have  far  more  of  life  crowded 
into  every  year.  And  after  all,  could  we  desire  to  live  in  a 
time  when  God  was  less  sharply  and  pertinaciously  forcing  the 
sensation  of  His  presence  upon  us  ?  I  for  one  wish  always  to 
keep  in  mind  the  motto  to  Yeast ',  "  The  days  will  come,  when 
ye  shall  desire  to  see  one  of  the  days  of  the  Son  of  Man,  and 
ye  shall  not  see  it."  And — once  more — have  we  not  a 
miserable,  cowardly  dread  of  physical  death,  such  as  no 
Christian  age  ever  had  before,  and  do  we  in  our  hearts  suffi 
ciently  believe  that  all  live  unto  God  ?  .  .  . 

I  have  been  induced  to  take  fresh  work  in  the  shape  of 
examining  for  the  Natural  Science  Tripos  in  the  spring,  and 
also  for  the  different  Professorial  certificate  examinations  in 
the  same  subjects.  There  is  so  much  now  to  draw  me  away 
from  natural  science  that  I  am  not  sorry  to  be  compelled  to 
stick  to  it,  as  I  am  sure  that  in  moderation  it  is  good  for  me 
in  particular,  and  partly  for  everybody ;  besides,  it  is  a  great 

1  The  Crimean  War. 

AGE  27 



enjoyment.  I  am  just  treating  myself  to  a  first-rate  micro 
scope,  which  will  be  a  great  accession.  By  the  way,  I  am 
also  going  to  start  Photography. 

I  have  never  told  you,  I  believe,  about  the  Working  Men's 
College  which  we  have  set  up  here  like  that  in  town.  It  is 
too  long  a  story  for  a  letter,  but  I  will  send  you  Harvey 
Goodwin's  Inaugural  Lecture  when  it  appears,  which  will  tell 
you  something.  I  take  the  second  Latin  class,  and  lecture 
for  an  hour  on  Thursday  evening,  chiefly  catechetically. 
Even  if  the  educational  results  are  poor,  it  is  a  vast  gain  to 
both  sides  that  the  University  men  and  any  kind  of  working 
men  should  be  brought  into  that  kind  of  intercourse.  It  is  a 
strangely  happy  feeling  to  see  the  softened  and  bright  kindly 
eyes  of  those  young  fellows  looking  up  at  one.  Maurice  is 
coming  here  on  Friday  for  a  night  to  see  how  we  get  on 
(though  he  has  no  connexion  with  us),  and  we  are  all  to  meet 
him  at  Goodwin's  house. 

About  Jowett,  I  don't  think  you  could  go  beyond  me  in 
enjoying  and  praising  him.  His  wonderful  sympathy,  depth 
of  insight  into  men,  and  thorough  love  of  truth  and  fact  are 
above  praise ;  but,  alas  !  his  theological  conclusions  seem  to 
me  blank  atheism,  though  he  is  anything  but  an  atheist. 
Even  the  learning  and  scholarship  of  the  book  you  must  not 
accept  on  trust.  It  is  nearly  always  second-hand,  and  often 
quite  wrong.  I  have  not  yet  been  able  to  do  much  more 
than  look  over  Sydney  Smith,  but  it  seems  very  delightful. 
It  is  very  obvious  that  we  have  never  done  him  justice.  Still 
we  should  be  in  a  very  bad  way  now  if  we  had  not  had  at  the 
same  time  far  deeper  men,  whom  he  probably  both  mis 
understood  and  despised.  Miss  Forssteen  will  probably  have 
told  you  of  the  volume  of  Lectures  to  Ladies,  which  even  now 
I  have  not  finished.  Several  are  invaluable, — Maurice's  of 
course,  also  Dr.  Chambers',  Davies',  and  a  thoroughly  practical 
and  sensible  one  of  Kingsley's ;  it  is  remarkable  as  the  only 
place  where  I  remember  to  have  seen  him  speak  despondingly 
of  the  state  of  England,  and  it  is  a  sad  confirmation  of  one's 
own  fears.  Bunsen  will  of  course  have  shown  you  the 
delightful  translations  of  German  hymns  which  another  Miss 
Winkworth  has  published.  If  you  remember  any  of  our  talks 


about  Novalis,  you  will  read  with  interest  "  What  had  I  been 
if  Thou  wert  not  ?  "  She  has  much  shortened  and  demysticized 
it ;  but  I  cannot  say  spoiled  it.  I  hope  you  noticed  Godfrey 
Arnold's  "  How  blest  to  all  Thy  followers,  Lord,  the  road." 
Maurice  has  written  a  preface  to  the  new  edition  of  the  Old 
Testament  [Sermons]  (now  called  Patriarchs  and  Lawgivers), 
in  answer  to  Hansel's  pamphlet  on  Eternity,  or  rather  pointing 
out  how  much  must  be  consistently  given  up  by  those  who 
profess  to  adopt  Hansel's  philosophical  scheme  against  him. 
He  has  also  written  a  preface  of  100  pages  to  Hare's  Charges, 
which  are  going  to  be  collected  into  one  volume  (including 
the  unprinted  ones).  The  preface  will  be,  as  he  intimates 
himself,  a  comment  on  the  English  Church  History  of  the  last 
fifteen  years.  A  very  noble  Scotchman  named  Campbell, 
who  was  turned  out  of  the  Kirk  with  Irving,  Alex.  Scott,  etc., 
for  asserting  that  God  does  not  will  the  death  of  a  sinner,  is 
publishing  at  Hacmillan's  a  valuable  book  on  the  Atonement, 
much  of  which  I  have  read.  It  is  quiet  and  evangelical  in 
tone,  and  not  at  all  alarming ;  I  do  not  think  it  meets  all 
sides  of  the  question,  but  it  expresses  my  own  ideas  better 
than  any  book  I  ever  saw. 


CAMBRIDGE,  November  30^,  1855. 

...  I  had  an  extremely  kind  note  from  Hrs.  Hackenzie, 
thankfully  praising  the  book,  and  telling  me  that  all  friends, 
Lord  Hurray  in  particular,  wrote  to  her  to  the  same  effect.  I 
can  honestly  say  that  I  was  perfectly  disinterested  in  undertak 
ing  the  labour;  but  I  have  no  doubt  that,  if  ever  I  go  to 
Edinburgh,  as  Hrs.  Mackenzie  has  often  pressed  me  to  do,  I 
shall  find  there  that  it  has  gained  me  several  kindly-disposed 


HARDWICK,  January  2nd  and  *jth,  1856. 

Hy  dear  Ellerton — I  feel  some  shame  at  having  acted  on 
what  looks  like  commercial  principles  in  not  writing  because 

AGE  27 



you  owe  me  a  letter ;  but  I  have  written  hardly  any  letters  the 
last  few  months  beyond  what  have  been  absolutely  necessary, 
and  it  really  seems  as  if  every  month  I  had  less  and  less  time 
for  anything,  while  yet  the  results  are  painfully  empty. 

I  have  not  much  to  tell  you  about  myself.  What  chiefly 
occupied  me  last  year  was  Mackenzie's  Essay,  of  which  I  hope 
you  received  a  copy  that  I  sent  by  post.  This  last  term  I 
hardly  know  what  I  have  been  doing,  except  the  ordinary 
work  of  our  Journal  of  Philology,  and  preparing  a  rather 
elaborate  article  on  the  date  of  Justin  Martyr,1  which  I  have 
not  yet  finished.  Examinations  also  take  up  time.  ...  As  for 
plans  for  the  year,  it  is  far  too  early  to  think  of  them,  and  I 
now  never  know  my  fate  for  a  month  beforehand.  But 
Lightfoot  and  I  have  some  vague  ideas  of  getting  three  or 
four  weeks  together  at  Paris  to  collate  MSS.,  he  of  Clement  of 
Alexandria,  and  I  of  Epiphanius ;  and  the  experience  of 
eighteen  months  ago  was  so  favourable  as  to  my  health,  that 
I  dream  of  trying  to  get  four  or  five  weeks  more  among  the 
glaciers.  But  this  is  all  among  the  clouds. 

You  would  be  surprized  at  the  changes  at  Cambridge. 
The  tutors  now  are  Mathison,  Thacker,  and  Munro.  Dear 
old  Munro  groans  under  the  infliction,  but  I  think  it  will  do 
him  a  great  deal  of  good.  We  have  had  a  great  loss  in 
Scott,2  but  one  could  not  grudge  him  to  Westminster.  The 
most  important  man,  I  think,  now  in  Trinity  is  Lightfoot,  from 
whom  I  expect  a  great  deal.  He  always  seemed  solid,  a  good 
scholar,  and  disposed  to  be  a  learned  and  thoughtful  theologian; 
but  I  was  hardly  prepared  for  the  vivacity  and  liberality  which 
he  has  shown  in  the  last  few  months.  He  is  certainly  West- 
cott's  best  pupil.  At  St.  John's  we  have  lost  Hutchinson,  who 
has  just  married  and  gone  to  Birmingham  ;  but  the  two  Mayors 
and  Roby  are  invaluable  in  their  several  ways. 

But  perhaps  the  most  important  Cambridge  matter  of  all 
has  been  the  establishment  of  the  Working  Men's  College.  .  .  . 
Somewhere  about  October  1854  Montagu  Butler  (a  most 
excellent  fellow, — and  brother  'Apostle,' — senior  classic  last 
spring,  and  elected  Fellow  of  Trinity  his  first  time)  spoke  to 

1  See  Journal  of  Classical  and  Sacred  Philology r,  No.  viii.  p.  155. 
2  The  Rev.  C.  B.  Scott. 


me  on  the  subject,  having  been  of  course  stimulated  by  the 
then  recent  foundation  of  the  College  in  London.  Whether 
he  or  Vesey  was  the  first  to  suggest  it  for  Cambridge,  I  don't 
know ;  but  they  consulted  together.  My  advice  was  to  wait 
a  while,  till  the  London  experiment  had  been  fairly  tried,  and 
then  see  what  could  be  done.  In  December  I  was  introduced 
to  Vesey,  and  he  spoke  to  me  about  it,  and  I  gave  the  same 
answer.  He  had  been  similarly  advised  by  ;;H.  Goodwin. 
Early  last  spring,  however,  they  moved  again,  and  this  time 
H.  Goodwin  consented  to  act  at  once ;  and  of  course,  entirely 
approving  the  project  in  itself,  I  could  not  refuse  to  do  the 
same,  though  I  should  have  preferred  further  delay.  We  four, 
with  A.  Macmillan  and  Joe  Mayor,  met  repeatedly  and  got  our 
ideas  into  shape ;  we  then  called  a  meeting  of  friends  well 
disposed  to  the  plan  [and]  voted  (after  much  discussion) 
several  fundamental  principles,  the  chief  being  that  the 
Council  should  consist  exclusively  of  teachers  and  such  as 
should  be  ready  to  teach  if  called  upon.  Those  present  who 
were  willing  to  subscribe  to  this  condition  then  became  ipso 
facto  the  Council,  all  future  members  being  admitted  on 
similar  terms  by  ballot.  Harvey  Goodwin  was  elected 
Principal.  After  many  meetings  in  that  and  May  term,  we 
took  and  furnished  rooms  at  the  back  of  a  house  in  the 
market-place,  and  in  October  started  the  classes.  Hitherto 
the  success  has  been  in  most  respects  all  we  could  desire,  in 
number  of  students  most  remarkably  so.  The  great  principle 
we  have  started  from  is  to  substitute  for  Mechanics'  Institute 
orations  and  '  lectures '  a  bond  fide  education  by  means  of 
carefully  catechetical  lessons.  Even  if  the  education  actually 
given  should  prove  to  be  small  in  amount,  which  we  have  no 
right  to  assume,  two  great  benefits  must,  I  think,  arise :  ist, 
the  men  (who  are  chiefly  young)  will  be  shown  practically  what 
accurate  learning  and  knowledge  is,  and  will  at  least  receive  a 
good  lesson  in  genuine  self-education  ;  and  2nd,  and  above 
all,  the  University  and  the  town  will  be  brought  face  to  face 
in  a  way  that  cannot  fail  to  be  of  the  greatest  possible  service 
to  both.  Indeed,  over  and  above  the  object  of  bridging  over 
the  chasm  between  classes,  I  am  sanguine  enough  to  hope  that 
the  rest  of  the  University  will  receive  a  healthy  impulse  towards 

VGE  27 



a  real  combination  of  'learning  and  work,'  and  a  practical 
horrour  of  keeping  knowledge,  or  anything  else,  'hid  in  a 
napkin.'  I  think  you  will  allow  that  these  are  strong  reasons 
for  doing  what  we  can  at  Cambridge  ;  and  of  course  the 
assemblage  of  a  good  staff  of  teachers,  such  as  only  an 
University  town  could  furnish,  is  a  very  great  help.  I  must  not 
write  longer  on  this  point,  but  I  hope  we  shall  soon  have  an 
opportunity  of  talking  it  over.  Maurice  is  of  course  greatly 
interested  in  our  experiment,  and  actually  came  down  to  us  for 
three  nights  (including  Sunday)  at  the  beginning  of  December. 
In  the  morning  he  preached  at  St.  Edward's  for  H.  Goodwin, 
in  the  evening  for  Tayler  at  St.  Mary's,  and  you  may  imagine 
what  a  pleasure  it  was  to  hear  him  from  that  pulpit.  Tayler 
opened  the  galleries  (they  have  been  closed  in  the  evenings 
since  Cams'  departure),  and  every  part  of  the  church  was 
crammed.  He  gave  us  a  very  simple  and  affecting  sermon  on 
godly  sorrow  and  the  sorrow  of  the  world,  and  I  have  some 
reason  to  hope  it  conquered  some  prejudices.  Poor  dear  old 

-  was  aghast  at  such  a  pollution  of  St.  Mary's  pulpit,  and 
doubly  so  when  he  heard  that  Maurice  had  preached  a  most 
inoffensive  sermon,  remarking  that  he  was  very  sorry  to  hear 
it,  as  it  would  only  delude  people  into  a  false  security. 
Maurice  seems  to  have  gone  back  to  London  greatly  delighted 
and  encouraged  by  his  visit.  He  has  left  us  a  pleasant  relic 
of  it  in  his  portrait,  which  Macmillan  induced  him  to  have 
taken  by  a  photographer  on  Parker's  Piece.  Well !  unless 
something  fresh  occurs  to  me,  I  think  this  must  do  for 
Cambridge  news.  .  .  . 

I  cannot  remember  whether  I  mentioned  to  you  Westcott's 
new  book  on  the  N.  T.  Canon,  as  solid  and  thorough  a  book 
as  you  will  often  see.  A  very  valuable  book  on  the  Atone 
ment  (of  which  I  have  read  four  or  five  chapters)  is  just 
coming  out  by  Campbell,  a  great  friend  of  Alexander  Scott, 
and  expelled  with  him  from  the  Kirk.  He  was  at  Cambridge 
last  term,  and  a  milder  and  more  beautiful  spirit  I  have 
seldom  seen,  with  much  of  the  wisdom  that  it  might  be 
expected  to  produce.  .  .  .  Maurice  is  getting  on  with  the 
Mediaval  Philosophy^  but  his  thoughts  chiefly  turn  to  the 
last  instalment  of  the  Warburtonian  Lectures,  the  commentary 


on  St.  John's  writings.  When  that  shall  have  been  published, 
he  tells  Macmillan  (but  of  course  it  must  not  be  repeated)  he 
feels  that  his  work  on  earth  will  be  done.  Birks  has  just 
published  at  Macmillan's  a  book,  The  Difficulties  of  Belief. 
The  leading  ideas  seem  to  be  a  strong  faith  in  man's  freedom, 
and  the  necessity  of  recognizing  it  in  all  theology,  and  a 
horrour  of  attributing  arbitrary  and  '  potter  '-like  conduct  to 
God ;  and  from  such  premises  some  rather  weighty  results 
may  be  worked  out.  I  hope  you  will  see  Kingsley's  new 
book  'for  children,'  The  Heroes.  It  is  nearly  free  from 
preaching,  and  a  singularly  beautiful  and  truthful  rendering 
of  the  stories  of  Perseus,  the  Argonauts,  and  Theseus.  The 
engravings  are  by  his  own  hand,  and  surprised  me  exceed 
ingly  after  his  failure  in  Glaucus.  As  pictures  they  are  for 
the  most  part  very  lovely,  and  they  have  caught  the  true 
Greek  spirit  in  a  way  that  I  do  not  remember  to  have  seen 
even  approached.  The  figure  of  Andromeda  in  the  frontis 
piece  is,  I  think,  the  best,  and  exquisite  it  is.  In  speaking 
of  Cambridge  I  might  have  mentioned  the  Cambridge  Essays. 
Most  of  the  best  contributors  called  off  for  one  reason  or 
another  when  the  time  came,  and  so  this  number  is  below 
what  I  had  hoped,  but  still  interesting.  The  gem  of  it  is 
Brimley's  article  on  Tennyson,  a  genuine  burst  of  hearty 
enthusiasm  ludicrously  at  variance  with  all  dear  Brimley's 
pet  theories  (he  now  professes  to  believe  in  nothing  but 
'  nervous  tissue '  !),  and,  except  in  one  or  two  groundless 
cavils,  a  worthy  vindication  against  the  populace.  The  next 
best  article  is  one  by  Hughes  of  Magdalen,  on  the  'Future 
Prospects  of  the  British  Navy,'  with  which  should  be  read 
his  '  Cruise  of  the  Pet,'  a  capital  account  of  his  voyages  to 
the  Baltic  (including  Bomarsund  and  Sveaborg)  in  '54  and 
'55.  .  .  .  Clark's1  (who  is  the  editor)  is  too  slight  (on  Classi 
cal  Education),  but  has  two  or  three  inimitable  pages.  Clark 
has  asked  me  to  write  in  the  next  number,  and  I  have  under 
taken  a  paper  on  Coleridge,  but  rather  shrink  from  all  the 
reading  that  ought  to  be  accomplished  beforehand.  Other 
wise  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  more  convenient  way  of 
uttering  several  things  that  I  want  to  say,  especially  about  the 
1  W.  G.  Clark. 

AGE  27 



tendencies  of  English  philosophy.  I  am  anxious  to  hear 
what  you  have  been  doing  in  certain  proposed  plans.  Several 
promising  titles  of  hymn-books  have  been  advertised  in  the 
papers  during  the  last  year,  but  I  have  seen  hardly  any  of 
them.  Miss  Winkworth  has  published  under  the  name  of 
Lyra  Germanica  a  very  good  selection  of  German  hymns 
from  Bunsen's  great  collection,  for  the  most  part  admirably 
translated ;  but  they  are  few,  and  a  large  proportion  fit  only 
for  private  use.  Some  of  the  so-called  Christmas  and  Easter 
Carols  done  by  J.  M.  Neale  are  also,  to  my  surprise,  ex 
tremely  good  hymns  for  church  use ;  others  are  simply 
absurd.  When  I  was  with  you  at  Brighton  you  were  at 
work  on  a  scheme  for  a  book  in  conjunction  with  your 
Canterbury  friends  (I  forget  the  name).  I  hope  that  is  not 
given  up.  I  may  as  well  tell  you  at  once  that  in  four  or  five 
days  you  will  receive  a  poem  of  Blunt's.  The  verses  headed 
'Tintern,  October  1855,'  are  my  own. 

It  is  rather  too  late  at  the  end  of  this  tolerably  long  letter 
to  begin  talking  politics,  but  I  must  own  I  should  be  glad  to 
know  what  you  are  thinking  of  the  progress  of  affairs.  I  find 
so  few  to  agree  with  me,  that  every  accession  gains  double 
the  value  to  me  that  it  would  have  for  its  own  sake.  The 
preface  to  poor  Henry  Lushington's  Poems  seems  to  me  still 
incomparably  the  truest  word  that  has  yet  been  spoken  about 
the  war ;  and  no  one  else  seems  really  to  feel  what  is  at 
stake.  The  blind  ferocity  of  the  war  party  and  the  narrow 
Guizotian  aims  of  even  the  noblest  and  bravest  of  the  men 
of  peace  repel  one's  thoughts  almost  alike.  How  one 
almost  curses  that  word  civilization !  And  then  what  a 
glorious  future  the  new  seers  promise  us !  First,  a  military- 
despotism,  whether  it  be  Russian  or  Occidental,  and  then  a 
China,  a  hive  of  '  industry.'  And  then  how  many  cen 
turies'  work  is  undone  in  that  Concordat !  Still  there  is  hope 
in  this  new  Swedish  alliance.  Sweden  itself,  I  fear,  is  half 
rotten,  morally  and  politically,  but  in  Norway  and  Denmark, 
if  anywhere,  can  I  see  any  promise  of  genuine  life.  I  had 
better  stop  ;  so  I  will  only  send  kind  regards  to  your  mother, 
and,  though  late,  every  best  wish  for  the  new  year. — Ever 
yours  affectionately,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 

VOL.  I  Y 



CAMBRIDGE,  Febmary  2%tk,  1856. 

.  .  .  You  will  perhaps  have  been  expecting  to  hear  some 
thing  about  my  ordination  at  Ely  last  Sunday  week,  but  really 
there  was  nothing  about  it  on  which  I  could  write  with  any 
pleasure.  Nothing  could  well  be  more  frigid  and  perfunctory 
without  being  absolutely  offensive. 

That  little  creature  (Chelifer  by  name),  which  I  found  in 
the  wood,  turns  out  to  be  a  real  curiosity.  It  is  exactly  as  I 
supposed,  intermediate  between  scorpions,  spiders,  and  mites. 
Both  Babington  and  William  Kingsley  have  known  it  some 
years,  but  hardly  anything  has  been  written  on  the  curious 
little  tribe  to  which  it  belongs.  They  are  chiefly  to  be  found 
behind  the  loosened  bark  of  trees.  My  capture  is  now  safely 
mounted  in  Canada  balsam,  and  it  is  fortunate  that  our  first 
attempt  failed,  and  that  he  was  laid  by  in  spirits  of  wine, 
though  he  suffered  some  injuries  then,  and  some  more 


CAMBRIDGE,  March  2Oth,  1856. 

...  In  the  new  number  of  our  Journal  of  Philology  is  a 
most  excellent  review x  of  Stanley  and  Jowett  as  critics  by 
Lightfoot,  but  he  purposely  avoids  the  theology.  I  have, 
however,  just  seen  in  MS.  a  big  pamphlet  or  small  book  which 
Davies  is  going  to  print  against  Jowett's  theology ;  in  nearly 
every  word  of  which  I  concur,  though  I  should  like  to  say  a 
good  deal  more  of  both  praise  and  blame.  ...  I  think  I 
mentioned  to  you  before  Campbell's  book  on  the  Atonement, 
which  is  invaluable  as  far  as  it  goes ;  but  unluckily  he  knows 
nothing  except  Protestant  theology.  .  .  . 

You  will  all  this  while  be  wondering  at  my  being  up  here 
at  this  time.  The  reason  will  perhaps  surprise  you  also. 
Montagu  Butler  has  accepted  the  post  of  secretary  to  William 
Cowper,  President  of  the  Board  of  Health,  and  has  just  been 

1  Journal  of  Classical  and  Sacred  Philology,  No.  VII, 

AGE  27 



suddenly  summoned  to  his  duties.  The  result  is  that  his 
lecture-room  is  left  mouthless  for  next  term.  He  has  ac 
cordingly,  after  consultation  with  Mathison,  asked  me  to 
lecture  for  him  for  next  term,  not  as  assistant  tutor,  but  simply 
as  a  temporary  substitute.  This  I  have  agreed  to  do  ;  and  am 
therefore  staying  up  to  coach  Tacitus  for  the  benefit  of 
Mathison's  freshmen.  I  hope  it  may  make  me  regular.  At 
all  events  I  like  the  work,  though  it  will  be  laborious ;  and  I 
shall  be  my  own  master  after  next  term. 

This  last  result  may  be  of  some  consequence,  if  I  carry 
out  a  dream  that  I  have  gradually  been  forming  of  going  to 
Egypt,  Palestine,  and  Syria  for  about  January  to  July  next. 
I  don't  know  that  I  shall  be  able  to  afford  it,  but  I  think  I 
ought  to  try.  It  is  possible  that  I  might  join  a  probable  party 
consisting  of  Butler,  Vesey,  Gibson,  and  Lightfoot.  Again  I 
am  pretty  nearly  resolved  to  go  somewhere  this  summer,  but 
where  I  cannot  say.  Health,  however,  is  a  great  object ;  and 
that  combined  with  pleasure  point  very  strongly  to  M.  Rosa 
and  the  glaciers.  .  .  . 

We  had  an  election  of  a  musical  professor  a  little  while 
ago  (when  Sterndale  Bennett,  to  my  great  joy,  was  elected 
triumphantly),  and  Trench  came  up  to  vote  \  he  breakfasted 
with  me  next  morning,  and  I  meant  to  have  given  him  Peace 
in  War,  but  forgot  it.  I  have  now,  however,  sent  it  to  him. 
I  have  also  sent  it  anonymously  to  Ruskin  and  Keble. 

I  have  done  very  little  for  Coleridge  yet,  but  must  work  at 
him  this  term ;  the  essay  will  be  far  less  elaborate  than  I  had 
once  thought  of  making  it.  I  have  not  yet  finished  off  Justin 
Martyr,  but  hope  to  do  so  very  soon.  By  the  way,  any  news 
from  the  Roman  Bishops?  I  have  had  a  vague  idea  of 
writing  a  (much  wanted)  pamphlet  on  examinations,  but  shall 
probably  not  have  time.  The  ground  is  also  partly  occupied 
by  a  good  book  lately  published  by  Donaldson  on  classical 
learning  and  scholarship.  Much  the  most  interesting  and 
substantial  book  come  out  lately  is  Archer  Butler's  Lectures  on 
Ancient  Philosophy  (i.e.  Plato  and  his  predecessors,  Aristotle's 
Psychology^  and  a  little  of  the  Neoplatonists),  with  very 
excellent  notes  by  Thompson.  I  have  just  got  and  begun  a 
huge  new  ^////-juvenile  book  by  the  [author  of  the]  Heir  of 


Reddyffe,  The  Daisy  Chain,  which  seems  promising.  By  the 
way,  I  forgot  last  term  to  advise  you  to  read  Shirley  Brooks' 
Aspen  Court)  if  you  see  it.  Thinking  of  it  afterwards,  I  don't 
like  it  as  I  did  at  first,  but  it  deserves  reading.  George 
Meredyth's  (sic)  Shaving  of  Shagpat  is  a  prose  imitation  of 
the  Arabian  Nights,  which  I  had  not  patience  to  get  through. 
It  seems  clever,  but  quite  unworthy  of  him. 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  yd,  1856. 

.  .  .  Your  questions  about  lecturing,  etc.,  I  had  already 
anticipated  in  writing  to  my  father,  and  I  do  not  know  that 
there  is  any  further  answer  to  add  now.  You  ask,  by  the 
way,  about  hesitation.  Now  and  then  for  a  few  seconds  the 
words  do  not  come  out  freely,  but  that  is  only  occasionally, 
and  never  to  a  serious  degree.  I  do  not  think  it  ever  occurs 
when  I  get  into  full  swing.  It  has  this  moment  occurred  to 
me  that  perhaps  you  may  be  thinking  rather  about  fluency 
than  freedom  of  articulation;  but  the  fact  is,  the  word 
'  lecturing '  is  rather  deceptive.  What  I  have  to  do  consists 
in  hearing  six  or  eight  of  the  lecture-room  read  and  translate 
a  few  lines  of  Latin  each,  correct  their  blunders,  give  any 
comments  or  cautions  which  the  words  of  the  passage  suggest, 
and  finally  retranslate  it  myself;  so  that  it  is  not  at  all  like 
a  continuous  harangue,  and  nearly  every  sentence  is  directly 
suggested  by  the  book  before  me.  I  have  chiefly  directed 
their  attention  to  peculiarities  of  words  or  phrases,  the  exact 
force  of  particular  expressions,  the  history  of  important  words, 
and  matters  of  that  kind,  which  it  would  be  difficult,  if  not 
impossible,  for  them  to  scrape  together  entirely  for  them 
selves  out  of  books.  For  more  purely  historical  matter  I  have 
referred  them  generally  to  accessible  English  books,  occasion 
ally  translating  to  them  passages  of  German  books  which 
seemed  of  particular  value.  I  find  myself  quite  unable  to 
overtake  the  amount  of  preparation  for  lectures  which  I  should 
like  to  accomplish,  but  I  find  the  same  complaint  by  all 
conscientious  lecturers  at  Trinity. 

AGE  28 



We  are  very  well  satisfied  with  our  new  organist,  who  made 
his  debut  a  week  ago.  Every  stranger  finds  our  organ 
difficult  at  first,  and  accordingly  on  Saturday  Hopkins1 
blundered  and  struggled  a  good  deal,  though  every  now  and 
then  came  a  difficult  passage  so  well  played  as  to  show  that 
he  was  not  wanting  in  skill.  On  Sunday  he  was  quite  success 
ful,  though,  of  course,  not  equal  to  poor  Walmisley.  He 
fails  most  in  accompanying  the  chanted  Psalms,  into  which 
Walmisley  Used  to  throw  an  extraordinary  variety  and  flexi 
bility  without  changing  a  note,  but  in  the  anthems  he  plays  the 
brilliant  and  delicate  parts  equally  well. 

I  have  mislaid  your  last  note,  and  cannot  recollect  whether 
there  was  anything  in  it  that  required  answering,  except  about 
the  fungi.  But  I  am  very  much  obliged  for  them ;  they  are 
certainly  the  true  edible  Morell  (Morchella  esculenta),  which  I 
have  long  wished  to  see.  Berkeley  calls  them  "  esteemed 
anywhere  as  a  valuable  article  of  food."  About  the  beautiful 
little  red  fungus  which  you  sent  me  before  I  do  not  feel  so 
sure.  .  .  .  The  little  '  critturs '  in  the  wood  I  popped  into  your 
little  bottle  of  spirits  of  wine,  but  have  not  looked  at  them 
since.  In  the  vacation  Mr.  William  Kingsley  took  hastily  two 
waxed  paper  negatives  with  his  oxyhydrogen  light  to  show  me 
how  he  applies  photography  to  the  microscope.  The  objects 
were  the  spiracle  or  breathing -hole  of  a  caterpillar,  and  a 
Chelifer  something  like  the  one  I  found  at  Hardwick,  but  a 
different  species.  He  gave  me  the  negatives,  and  I  have  just 
taken  some  rather  indifferent  positives  from  them,  of  which  I 
have  sent  one  of  each,  thinking  you  may  like  to  see  them. 


CAMBRIDGE,  May  i^th  and  i8/A,  1856. 

...  I  was  much  interested  in  your  account  of  the  strange 
heretics  you  are  fallen  among.  At  the  same  time  I  fear  I 
should  rave  at  them  like  a  madman  if  I  got  in  their  company. 
no  doubt  rejects  the  common  doctrine  because  it  seems 

1  Successor  to  Walmisley,  whose  much  regretted  death  occurred  in  this 
year.  Hort  always  regarded  him  as  the  prince  of  organists. 


to  contradict  morality,  and  yet  those  vague  sweeping  theories 
of  salvation  introduce  a  meaning  of  salvation  which  destroys 
the  very  possibility  of  morality.  All  depends  on  our  main 
taining  the  inviolability  of  the  will;  and  for  finite  beings  a 
will  is  no  will  which  cannot  choose  evil.  If  he  admits  that, 
but  says  that  the  continued  rebellion  of  any  is  irreconcilable 
with  the  triumph  of  God's  will  and  love,  then  I  say  that  the 
present  rebellion  of  any  is  likewise  inconsistent  with  the 
same.  While  that  awful  fact  of  sin  is  staring  you  in  the 
face,  you  cannot  weave  theories  for  the  future  that  will  hold 
water,  except  by  the  German  dodge  of  refining  sin  into  a 
lesser  kind  of  necessary  good,  which  is  the  very  devil.  "  I 
don't  know  "  is  at  last  the  only  possible  answer.  And  I  do  most 
cordially  say  amen  to  Davies'  assertion  that  nowadays  it  is 
much  more  essential  to  insist  on  God's  justice  than  His  love. 
The  idea  of  justice  is  so  utterly  corrupted  that  people  oppose 
it  to  love,  and  that  blasphemy  must  be  overthrown.  I  quite 
allow  that  Davies  made  too  much  of  the  alleged  contradictions 
in  Jowett ;  but  after  all  he  devotes  very  few  pages  to  them. 
The  purpose  of  the  pamphlet  is  not  to  scoff  at  them,  but  to 
protest  against  the  sentimental  atheism  which  is  Jowett's 
fundamental  doctrine.  Where  he  finds  an  essay  that  he  likes, 
he  does  praise  it,  viz.  the  last. 


CAMBRIDGE,  June  i$tht  1856. 

...  I  have  not  yet  told  you  my  plans  for  the  summer. 
I  am  going  for  six  or  seven  weeks  of  hard  labour  among  the 
glaciers  and  highest  peaks  of  the  Alps,  eschewing  the  vallies 
and  ordinary  Swiss  lions.  Lightfoot  and  I  have  agreed  to 
rendezvous  at  Luzern  July  iQth,  spend  a  week  in  training 
among  the  peaks  of  Uri,  etc.,  ending  at  the  Grimsel,  and  a 
fortnight  in  the  snow  region  of  the  Bernese  Oberland  (the 
ascent  of  the  Jungfrau  and  Finsteraarhorn  being  dreamed  of) ; 
and  then  make  all  haste  to  St.  Gervais  at  the  foot  of  Mt. 
Blanc,  where  we  expect  to  find  Hawkins  and  perhaps  Ames 
or  Watson,  and  thence  ascend  Mt.  Blanc  himself  (this  is  a 

AGE  28 



dead  secret)  by  the  new  route,  thereby  avoiding  the  extortions 
of  Chamonix.  Lightfoot  has  not  made  up  his  mind  how 
much  farther  he  will  accompany  us  before  diverging  to  Ger 
many,  but  at  all  events  Hawkins  and  myself  talk  of  moving 
eastward,  crossing  and  recrossing  the  main  chain  till  we  reach 
Zermatt,  and  then  spend  some  two  or  three  weeks  in  that 
region,  going  up  M.  Rosa  and  as  many  other  of  the  highest 
points  (mostly  unexplored  hitherto)  as  we  can  manage,  and 
then  return  home.  I  hope  we  shall  find  it  an  expedition  to 
be  remembered. 


yEGGisCHHORN,  August  1st  and  yd,  1856. 

.  .  .  My  last  letter  was  posted  at  Lauterbrunnen  last 
Saturday.  That  day  we  did  nothing  particular.  Next  morn 
ing  we  read  prayers  to  a  fparty  of  present  and  old  Rugbeians. 
...  On  Monday  we  started  for  Grindelwald  by  the  Wengern 
Alp  and  Little  Scheideck.  The  day  was  superb,  and  we  had 
the  best  possible  views  of  the  mountains  in  a  semicircle  from 
the  Jungfrau  to  the  Bliimlis  Alp  and  Doldenhorn,  then  the 
Jungfrau  herself,  and  finally  the  Monch,  Eiger,  Mettenberg, 
and  Wetterhorn.  We  reached  Grindelwald  at  12,  dined  and 
rested,  and  at  a  quarter  to  5  set  off  on  our  first  really  great 
expedition,  the  Pass  of  the  Strahleck. 

At  Lauterbrunnen  we  had  engaged  a  good  guide,  Fitz  von 
Aimer,  and  at  his  suggestion  we  took  another  (the  best)  from 
Grindelwald,  Peter  Bohren.  We  had  a  very  steep  climb  by 
the  ordinary  path  to  the  level  of  what  is  called  the  Mer  de 
Glace  de  Grindelwald.  The  precipices  then  closed  in  on  the 
ice  for  some  way,  and  after  winding  along  their  face  we  got 
upon  the  glacier  for  a  few  hundred  yards,  after  which  the 
precipices  retired,  leaving  a  rugged  triangular  slope,  in  the 
upper  corner  of  which  was  perched  the  little  chalet  of  Stiereck, 
which  was  to  be  our  night's  lodging. 

August  $rd. — Lightfoot  and  I  have  just  had  evening 
service,  and  now  I  must  try  to  tell  a  little  more  of  my  story 
before  going  to  bed.  While  coffee  was  preparing,  we  strolled 


about,  and  felt  ourselves  to  be  in  a  most  amusing  situation. 
A  number  of  goats  crowded  about  us,  with  rather  too  pressing 
familiarity,  though  we  could  not  help  admiring  the  pretty 
creatures  perched  about  in  all  manner  of  odd  places,  and  as 
inquisitive  as  cats ;  likewise  there  were  some  aristocratic  but 
decidedly  stupid  calves  and  three  or  four  pigs.  Presently 
supper  was  ready,  and  a  funny  meal  it  was,  but  by  no  means 
to  be  despised.  We  had  to  cut  our  bread  and  meat  with  our 
pocket-knives,  and  I  stirred  my  coffee  with  a  smaller  one  that 
I  had.  The  coffee  and  milk  were  in  two  great  pots,  and 
served  out  with  a  wooden  ladle.  Of  course  we  had  taken  our 
provisions  with  us.  After  supper  we  went  'to  bed.'  The 
chalet  consisted,  first  of  a  little  closet  or  scullery,  where  the 
fire  was ;  next,  of  a  little  bit  of  a  room  with  a  table  and  two 
short  benches  (our  dining-room) ;  and  next,  of  a  slightly  larger 
room  or  barn,  with  no  furniture  but  shelves  on  shelves  of 
cheeses,  the  floor  being  strewed  with  plenty  of  hay.  In  one 
corner  lay  two  mattresses,  or  flat  bags  loosely  stuffed  with  hay, 
and  between  these  we  gentry  reposed.  The  guides  occupied 
the  loose  hay.  In  our  evening  stroll  we  had  meditated  much 
on  fleas — in  fact  they  were  the  one  dark  background  to  our 
present  amusement  and  pleasure — but  happily  the  hay  was 
clean  as  well  as  dry,  and  we  escaped  unscathed,  though  the 
heat  and  excitement  kept  me  from  getting  to  sleep.  In  the 
morning  I  climbed  over  the  rocks  to  a  little  stream  and 
washed  my  face,  and  after  a  breakfast  closely  resembling 
supper  we  set  off  again  at  4.15.  We  ascended  the  glacier  for 
some  way  to  the  other  side,  and  then  had  a  series  of  walkings 
and  scramblings  up  rugged  banks  and  climbings  over  difficult 
rocks,  till  at  6.30  we  stood  on  the  level  of  the  upper  end  of 
the  glacier.  Nothing  could  be  grander  than  the  views  the 
whole  way,  but  especially  at  starting,  when  the  range  of  snowy 
peaks  of  the  Wetterhorn  stood  before  us  in  the  clear  starlight, 
with  a  faint  tinge  of  white  twilight.  We  crossed  the  Grindel- 
wald  glacier  a  second  time  with  great  ease,  and  then  had  a 
laborious  ascent  of  the  steep  tributary  Strahleck  glacier  on 
our  left.  At  8  we  breakfasted  again,  and  again  began 
climbing  over  ice,  snow,  and  rocks,  till  at  10.15  we  reached 
the  top  of  the  pass,  and  stopped  again  to  eat,  photographize, 

AGE  21 



and  look  about.  The  Schreckhorn  was  magnificent,  close 
above  our  heads.  The  Finsteraarhorn  had  been  hidden  from 
us  five  miles  before,  but  the  loss  was  made  up  by  the  other 
peaks  of  the  Aar  glaciers,  especially  the  beautiful  Oberaarhorn, 
often  confounded  with  the  rather  inferior  Lauteraarhorn.  By 
and  bye  we  set  out  to  descend  the  other  side,  having  first  been 
tied  together  with  a  rope.  We  first  had  to  scramble  down  a 
literally  almost  perpendicular  precipice  called  the  Wand  (or 
Wall),  but  the  very  rugged  and  broken  nature  of  the  rocks, 
with  ordinary  care,  obviated  all  danger.  The  lower  part, 
which,  being  coated  with  ice,  is  sometimes  more  dangerous, 
was  made  comparatively  easy  to  us  from  the  quantity  of  snow 
on  the  ice.  We  slid  down  the  lower  slopes  on  our  guides' 
backs  at  a  great  pace.  Just  as  we  reached  the  bottom,  we 
met  an  Englishman  with  two  guides,  coming  up  the  pass.  We 
then  had  a  long  and  tedious  trudge,  with  magnificent  views, 
down  the  '  firn '  of  this  arm  of  the  glacier.  This  '  firn  '  is 
the  upper  end  of  all  the  greater  glaciers,  consisting  of  crusty, 
powdery  snow  rather  than  ice.  Presently  the  Finsteraarhorn 
poured  in  its  tributary  stream  of  ice.  The  firn  began  to 
change,  and  we  reached  the  Abschwang,  where  the  Lauter 
and  Finsteraar  glaciers  unite  to  form  the  great  Lauteraar 
glacier.  We  had  a  singular  walk  for  miles  upon  the  united 
stream  till  near  its  end,  where  it  became  quite  covered  with 
lumps  of  rock,  over  which  we  clambered  to  the  granite  banks 
at  the  side.  Tell  my  mother  that  the  glacier  stereoscopic 
photograph  is  of  the  Schreckhorn  and  Lauteraarhorn  range  of 
mountains.  We  must  as  nearly  as  possible  have  passed  the 
spot  where  it  was  taken.  Once  more  on  level  ground  in  the 
valley  of  the  infant  Aar,  we  set  off  at  full  speed,  and  reached 
the  Grimsel  at  7.23  P.M.,  having  been  on  foot  15 \  hours. 
We  ought  not  to  have  been  so  long,  but  we  sometimes  went 
very  slowly,  and  there  were  some  needless  halts. 

As  we  approached  the  hospice,  we  saw  two  figures  watch 
ing  us,  whom  I  soon  recognised  to  be  Mr.  Mathison  and  Mr. 
Ingram  !  We  had  expected  to  meet  them  before,  but  in  vain. 
We  had  a  delightful  chat  before  going  to  bed,  but  they  were 
off  early  next  morning.  Though  not  more  than  very  slightly 
tired,  we  thought  it  best  to  rest  next  day,  merely  taking  a  walk 


of  twelve  or  fourteen  miles  down  to  the  Falls  at  Handeck  and 
back,  and  my  old  impressions  of  the  wonderful  grandeur  of 
the  Grimsel  scenery  were  more  strengthened.  We  had  fully 
intended  going  next  day  up  the  whole  length  of  the  Upper 
Aar  glacier,  over  the  Oberaarjoch,  and  down  the  whole 
length  of  the  Viesch  glacier  to  our  present  quarters,  but  that 
evening  the  charges  for  guides  proved  to  be  so  exorbitant, 
that  we  gave  up  the  plan,  and  resolved  to  follow  the  Rhone 
instead.  Accordingly  at  5.15  we  set  off  up  the  pass, 
having  transferred  our  luggage  to  a  porter,  and  then  had 
a  most  thoroughly  enjoyable  walk  over  moor  and  moss 
and  down  through  forest  straight  to  Obergestelen,  getting 
infinitely  grander  views  than  I  had  at  all  expected.  We 
reached  Miinster  by  the  valley  road  at  9.30,  had  a  famous 
dfjeuner  a  la  fourchette,  and  rested  two  hours  at  the  little  inn, 
and  then  tramped  for  three  weary  hours  along  a  broil  of  airless 
road  to  Viesch,  getting  no  shade  except  from  some  dozen 
chalets  in  each  village.  At  Viesch  we  dined,  and  rested 
about  four  hours,  and  then  climbed  the  steep  mountain  side 
to  this  half-finished  but  most  comfortable  little  hotel.  Next 
afternoon  (Friday)  at  3.41,  after  making  extensive  preparations, 
we  set  out  for  a  great  expedition,  no  less  than  the  ascent  of 
the  Jungfrau,  with  two  guides,  two  porters,  and  for  a  part  of 
the  way  with  a  Mr.  Bradshaw  Smith,  with  his  guide  and  porter. 
We  had  a  stiff  climb  over  a  shoulder  of  the  mountain,  and 
down  to  the  curious  little  lake  of  Marjelen,  with  little  bergs  of 
the  purest  ice  floating  upon  it,  and  bounded  on  one  side  by 
high  cliffs  of  glacier,  passing  from  snowy  white  into  the 
deepest  blue.  An  easy  scramble  of  a  few  minutes  brought  us 
upon  the  astonishing  Aletsch  glacier,  said  to  be  the  largest  in 
the  world,  a  vast  highway  of  ice  from  a  mile  to  a  mile  and  a 
half  wide  and  many  miles  long,  leading  into  the  very  heart  of 
the  greatest  mountains  in  the  Bernese  Oberland.  After  walk 
ing  along  it  with  thorough  pleasure  for  two  hours  we  reached 
our  stranger  night-quarters  at  a  little  before  8,  but  these,  and 
also  our  successful  ascent  of  the  Jungfrau  next  day  (which, 
as  we  have  reason  to  believe,  has  been  ascended  by  but 
two  Englishmen  before  ourselves),  must  stand  over  for  my 
next  letter. 





August  Wi,  1856. 

My  dearest  Mother — My  letter  to  Kate  from  the  ^Eggisch- 
horn  told  you  of  no  more  than  the  fact  of  our  having  got 
up  the  Jungfrau,  and  you  will  naturally  be  wanting  to  hear 
more.  One  great  difficulty  about  the  Jungfrau  is  the  distance 
of  its  only  accessible  side  from  any  good  resting-place.  The 
route  from  Grindelwald  is  extremely  bad,  and  it  is  question 
able  whether  it  has  ever  been  accomplished  before  this  year. 
Professor  Forbes,  Agassiz,  Desor,  etc.,  made  their  great  classical 
ascent  from  the  wretched  chalets  below  Marjelen  Lake.  But 
this  year  an  excellent  little  hotel  has  been  opened  on  the 
^Eggischhorn,  not  much  farther  off,  and  the  moment  I  heard 
of  its  existence  from  Ames  at  Interlaken,  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  that  must  be  our  starting-point.  We  found  the  hotel 
still  unfinished  ;  indeed,  when  we  arrived,  there  was  no  glass 
to  the  windows,  but  it  was  put  in  roughly  every  night,  and  we 
enjoyed  our  quarters  extremely.  I  should  mention  that  the 
Jungfrau  had  been  on  our  list  before  leaving  England  as  one 
of  the  things  to  be  done,  if  reasonable  means  could  be  found 
on  the  spot.  We  both  were  well  acquainted  with  the  ascent 
from  Forbes'  account.  If  you  can  get  hold  of  his  Norway  and 
its  Glaciers,  you  will  find  it  in  the  appendix  \  it  is  very  accurate 
and  good,  but  he  must  have  found  more  difficulties  from  the 
width  of  the  bergschrunds  and  from  a  comparative  want  of 
snow  on  the  ice  of  the  upper  part.  I  had  also  read  De'sor's 
French  account  of  the  same  ascent,  and  Studer's  German 
account  of  his  own.  Thus  we  knew  perfectly  well  what  we 
had  before  us.  Porters  were  sent  on  in  good  time  on  Friday 
to  take  fuel  and  a  blanket  or  two  to  our  night's  quarters,  and 
prepare  them  generally.  We  set  out  at  3.45  P.M.  with  our 
two  guides  carrying  provisions  and  our  plaids,  and  Mr.  Brad- 
shaw  Smith  and  his  guide,  who  had  not  made  up  his  mind 
whether  he  would  go  on  with  us  or  turn  in  the  morning  over 
the  Lotschsattel.  We  had  a  rough  scramble  over  two  shoulders 
of  the  ^ggischhorn  and  down  to  the  wonderful  little  lake  of 
Marjelen,  which  lies  between  it  and  the  Viescherhorner.  But 


I  forgot  till  this  moment  that  I  had  told  Kate  of  our  journey 
up  to  the  night's  resting-place.  This  was  in  a  triangular  recess 
of  the  Faulberg,  sloping  rapidly  down  to  the  glacier.  Climb 
ing  up  some  steep  rocks  on  one  side  of  it,  we  found  a  place 
where  the  slanting  strata  had  left  a  kind  of  little  cave  pene 
trating  a  few  feet  into  the  mountain.  We  perched  as  best  we 
could  about  the  entrance  and  proceeded  to  supper.  Finding 
before  starting  that  the  landlord  had  provided  only  cold  drinks, 
we  had  got  some  tea  from  him,  and,  having  now  lighted  a  fire, 
proceeded  to  boil  it  in  a  small  stew-pan,  our  only  cooking 
vessel,  and  delicious  it  was,  though  without  milk.  After  supper 
we  prepared  for  sleep.  I  forgot  to  mention  that  on  the  glacier 
we  met  a  young  Austrian  and  his  guide.  Chapman,  an  Etonian 
and  Trinity  man  of  Calthorpe's x  year  (I  think  also  a  friend  of 
his),  a  capital  mountaineer,  had  the  week  before  made  his  way 
from  Grindelwald  to  the  top  of  the  Jungfrau  after  considerable 
hardships;  and  this  had  stimulated  the  German  to  do  the 
same  with  a  strong  body  of  guides  and  porters.  At  last  he 
had  succeeded,  but  had  now  dismissed  all  the  guides,  etc.,  but 
one  to  return  to  Grindelwald,  and  was  proceeding  with  the 
best  to  Viesch ;  but,  night  coming  on,  and  his  guide  being 
ignorant  of  the  Aletsch  glacier,  he  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
encamp  near  us  for  the  night.  Of  course  we  gave  him  the 
benefit  of  our  shelter  and  some  of  our  provisions,  and  he 
joined  us  three  gentlemen  in  occupying  the  inmost  recess  of 
the  cave,  where  there  was  scarcely  room  for  the  four  to  lie 
packed  as  closely  as  possible  side  by  side,  with  the  rock  3 
inches  from  Lightfoot's  nose.  I  do  not  think  any  one  slept 
well  except  the  Austrian ;  I  could  not  sleep  at  all,  and  had  to 
get  up  just  as  I  felt  symptoms  of  it  coming  on.  In  the  middle 
of  the  night,  to  our  dismay,  we  heard  the  pattering  of  heavy 
rain  above  the  noise  of  the  torrent  which  supplied  us  with 
water,  and  presently  for  an  hour  or  two  a  drop  descended 
every  minute  on  our  helpless  upturned  cheeks  from  the  not 
too  watertight  rocks  close  above  them.  I  had  made  my  light 
little  macintosh  into  a  pillow;  and  with  great  difficulty  I 
unwedged  myself  so  as  to  sit  partly  up  and  put  it  on  after  a 
fashion ;  but  it  kept  me  dry,  and  the  leather  case  made  still 
1  Calthorpe  Blofield,  a  cousin. 

AGE  28 



something  of  a  pillow.  We  were  up  soon  after  3,  drove  off 
our  cares  with  a  good  breakfast,  and  set  off  once  more  at  five 
minutes  to  4.  The  rain  had  long  ceased,  and  the  clouds  had 
nearly  vanished  except  from  the  Jungfrau.  Mr.  Smith  had  at 
first  decided  on  going  with  us,  but  after  breakfast  called  off, 
his  guide  having,  as  it  afterwards'  turned  out,  privately  assured 
him  that  we  were  quite  certain  not  to  reach  the  top,  and  that 
the  clouds  would  rest  there  all  day.  The  Austrian,  a  silly, 
chattering  coxcomb,  but  obviously  a  good  walker,  told  us  we 
should  not  have  been  able  to  get  up  if  he  had  not  gone 
before,  but  that  his  track  would  now  show  us  the  way,  and  the 
500  steps  which  his  guides  had  hewed  in  the  ice  would  save 
us  the  trouble  of  doing  the  same.  In  reality  the  printed 
accounts  are  so  accurate  that  we  could  scarcely  have  missed 
the  way ;  but  doubtless  our  guides  were  saved  some  trouble 
by  the  tracks  for  some  part  of  the  lower  ascent ;  as  for  the 
steps,  they  were  too  much  melted  and  filled  up  to  be  of  any 
use  to  us.  Our  course  lay  along  the  glacier  nearly  to  its  head. 
It  was  now  no  longer  glacier  proper,  but  what  is  called  firn 
or  neve>  consisting  of  waves  and  hillocks  of  very  dry,  crusty, 
powdery  snow,  with  extremely  few  and  insignificant  crevasses ; 
the  ascent  was  very  gradual,  but  steadily  increasing.  The 
glacier  ends  in  a  col  between  the  Jungfrau  and  the  Monch, 
the  former  being  at  the  left-hand  corner,  the  latter  at  the  right, 
each  sending  out  a  ridge  parallel  to  the  glacier.  When  we 
had  passed  all  the  lateral  spurs  but  one  of  the  left-hand  ridge 
(called  the  Kranzberg),  we  struck  off  to  the  left  up  a  constant 
succession  of  slopes  of  snow  of  all  degrees  of  steepness  up  to 
42°,  sometimes  going  straight  up,  sometimes  crossing  them 
obliquely  up  or  down  or  horizontally,  and  passing  in  part  of 
the  way  over  some  rather  troublesome  rocks.  At  last  at  a 
quarter  to  1 1  we  stood  on  the  Col  du  Roththal,  a  high  depression 
in  the  great  ridge  which  separates  the  Vallais  from  the  Canton 
of  Bern,  and  looked  down  (or  should  have  done,  if  the  clouds 
had  allowed  us)  into  the  upper  part  of  the  valley  of  Lauter- 
brunnen ;  as  it  was,  we  only  saw  gigantic  ghosts  of  mountains, 
which  must  have  been  the  Bliimlis  Alp  and  its  neighbours. 
Now  began  the  real  ascent.  The  highest  peak  of  the  Jung 
frau  is  a  cone  or  pyramid  of  rock,  sheathed  in  ice  except  on 


part  of  the  N.  and  nearly  the  whole  S.  side,  where  the  preci 
pices  will  not  allow  snow  or  ice  to  hang.  We  went  up  from 
the  W.  or  S.W.  side  nearly  in  a  straight  line,  with  a  precipice 
a  few  feet  (not  inches,  as  Forbes  seems  to  have  done)  on  our 
right,  and  a  smooth  round  surface  of  snow-covered  ice  sloping 
steeply  away  on  our  left.  After  200  or  300  yards  every  step 
had  to  be  cut  with  the  axe.  Of  course  we  had  been  tied 
together  all  day,  and  our  progress  was  slow,  partly  from  the 
cutting  and  partly  from  the  extreme  care  which  we  took  in 
planting  our  feet.  Forbes  says  that  he  once  found  the  inclina 
tion  48° ;  the  highest  I  obtained  was  46^°,  but  I  believe  there 
were  steeper  parts.  A  great  deal  was  from  40°  to  45°,  and 
still  more  from  35°  to  40°.  At  last  we  reached  the  top  of 
the  slope,  not  more  than  3  or  4  feet  below  the  actual  top  of 
the  mountain,  which  was  separated  from  us  by  a  ridge  of  snow 
much  steeper  than  any  church  roof  I  have  ever  seeri,  even 
abroad,  and  not  an  inch  wide  at  the  top.  As  the  snow  was 
soft,  however,  we  were  able  to  walk  along  (for  about  15  feet), 
pressing  our  feet  deeply  in  on  one  side  and  our  alpenstocks 
on  the  other,  and  so  we  stood  on  the  top  just  before  i. 
The  view  was  unluckily  obstructed  in  many  directions  by 
clouds,  so  that  it  was  difficult  to  recognize  the  mountains 
which  we  did  see ;  still  the  sight  was  a  very  wonderful  one. 
During  no  part  of  the  day  were  we  actually  in  cloud  ourselves. 
The  descent  required  still  more  caution  than  the  ascent,  and 
for  the  most  part  we  stepped  down  backwards ;  but  as  there 
was  little  cutting  to  do,  it  took  us  only  if  hour  to  reach  the 
Col  du  Roththal.  Our  great  difficulty  all  along  was  from  the 
guides,  who  did  not  relish  the  business,  but  refused  to  advise 
us  to  return,  though  they  used  absurd  tricks  to  induce  us  to 
do  so.  Had  they  given  us  reason  to  put  confidence  in  them, 
it  would  have  been  very  wrong  to  have  persevered ;  as  it  was, 
we  both  feel  perfectly  assured  that  we  were  right  in  going  on. 
We  had  a  rapid  and  mostly  easy  descent  to  the  glacier ;  but 
there  Lightfoot  was  seized  with  a  quite  sudden  fit  of  exhaus 
tion  and  sickness  (arising,  I  have  no  doubt,  from  the  thunder), 
and,  instead  of  reaching  the  yEggischhorn,  or  Marjelen,  or 
even  our  former  cave,  we  had  to  drag  him  a  long  way  to  the 
nearest  rocks  at  the  foot  of  the  Grimhorn,  and  there  spend  a 

AGE  28 



wretched  night  in  cold  and  wet  with  very  little  shelter.  Of 
course  I  surrendered  my  macintosh  and  slippers  to  Lightfoot, 
and  he  got  some  sleep.  I  got  very  little  rest,  and  no  sleep : 
and  unluckily  there  was  not  a  square  yard  approximately  level 
on  which  to  walk  up  and  down  and  keep  oneself  warm ;  but 
providentially  the  heavy  thunder  which  came  on  at  dark 
brought  hardly  any  rain.  At  4  next  morning  we  set  off  very 
leisurely,  and  after  several  rests  got  home  about  u  A.M.,  and 
our  good  beds  soon  put  us  all  to  rights.  I  felt  scarcely  any 
fatigue  at  all  at  the  time  or  afterwards.  On  Monday  we 
merely  ascended  to  the  top  of  the  ^Eggischhorn  for  its  mag 
nificent  view,  and  on  Tuesday  walked  to  Viesch,  and  charred 
to  Brieg.  Wednesday  we  charred  to  Susten,  bussed  up  to 
Leukerbad,  and  walked  over  the  Gemmi  to  Schwarenbach ; 
whence  yesterday  we  ascended  the  Great  Altels,  a  mountain 
of  great  height  and  very  rarely  ascended,  but  called  easy.  It 
happened  that  there  was  very  little  snow  on  the  ice ;  so  that 
in  reality  we  found  it  worse  than  the  Jungfrau  (though  no 
where  so  steep  as  that  very  upright  young  lady  is  occasionally), 
and  had  to  cut  an  immense  number  of  steps ;  but  we  were 
amply  repaid  by  the  superb  view  on  every  side,  the  clouds 
being  below  the  mountains  till  just  as  we  were  leaving.  In 
the  evening  we  walked  down  to  this  place,  where  we  mean  to 
stay,  if  the  weather  is  fine,  till  Monday,  and  then  cross  the 
glaciers  of  the  Wild  Strubel  to  Sierre,  reaching  Martigny  on 
Tuesday.  ...  I  hope  to  be  able  to  write  from  St.  Gervais  or 
Chamonix  about  Sunday  week. 

It  is  very  curious  that  our  ascent  of  the  Jungfrau  was  one 
of  three  in  one  week  (the  others  neither  producing  nor  in  any 
way  connected  with  ours),  whereas  it  is  believed  that  no  other 
has  taken  place  for  many  years. 


August  \$th  and  i*jth,  1856. 

.  .  .  Our  work  for  Monday  was  a  glacier  pass  almost, 
if  not  quite,  unknown  to  Englishmen,  and  as  far  as  we 
could  learn,  hardly  ever  traversed  by  others,  although  it 


has  no  serious  difficulties.  Starting  about  4.30,  we  con 
tinued  above  an  hour  nearly  along  the  ordinary  Gemmi 
route,  leaving  it  just  where  the  precipice  descent  upon  Leuker- 
bad  strikes  off  to  the  left,  and  went  straight  on  or  slightly 
verging  to  the  right  over  easy  rocks  and  along  the  bed  of  the 
stream  till  we  reached  the  terminal  moraine  of  the  Lammern 
glacier,  which  we  climbed.  A  few  minutes  brought  us  on  the 
glacier  itself,  which  was  easy  at  first,  but  soon  became  harder 
from  its  steepness  and  slipperiness.  A  little  higher  up  its 
crevasses  became  much  wider  and  more  complicated,  and  we 
had  a  good  deal  of  cutting  with  the  axe  and  leaping.  But  the 
skill  and  activity  of  one  of  our  two  guides  (Melchior  Anderegg) 
enabled  us  to  get  along  with  perfect  ease  and  safety.  When 
the  glacier  became  level  again,  we  breakfasted,  and  I  took  a 
photograph  of  the  pass  before  us.  The  next  rise  in  the  glacier 
took  nothing  but  labour  up  the  steep  slopes  of  snow,  and  then 
after  another  short  level  we  had  a  succession  of  similar  slopes 
to  the  top  of  the  pass,  a  snowy  saddle  between  the  two  great 
humps  of  Wild  Strubel.  After  dining,  our  guides  thought  we 
should  find  it  easier  to  try  a  lower  pass  a  little  to  the  left, 
which  we  reached  in  a  very  short  time.  The  view  from  it 
was  very  extraordinary :  300  or  400  feet  below  us  was 
stretched  an  enormous  plain  or  very  flat  basin  of  dazzling 
firn^  two  or  three  miles  wide,  the  rim  being  sometimes 
backed  with  masses  of  mountain  or  smaller  rocks  and  some 
times  merely  snow.  Three  passes  were  discernible  on  the  S. 
side ;  the  farthest,  or  most  western,  was  the  one  by  which 
Anderegg  had  descended  before,  three  years  ago,  but  he  said 
it  was  difficult,  and  wished  to  try  whether  the  others  might 
not  be  easier.  It  was  at  first  proposed  to  make  first  for  the 
nearest,  and  then,  if  that  should  prove  ugly  on  a  near  inspec 
tion,  to  go  on  to  the  next,  which  Anderegg  agreed  with  me  in 
thinking  the  most  promising;  but  at  last  we  decided  to  go 
straight  to  this  one  at  once.  Just  before  starting  we  saw  a 
herd  of  six  chamois  crossing  the  plain  as  fast  as  the  snow 
would  let  them.  At  that  distance  they  looked  to  the  naked 
eye  more  like  the  pictures  one  sees  of  ostriches  running  than 
anything  else.  We  had  a  tedious  and  laborious  tramp  across 
for  about  ij  hour,  and  then  crossing  a  bank  of  shale, 

AGE  21 



found  ourselves  at  the  steep  head  of  a  valley,  down  which  we 
got  with  great  ease  on  a  bit  of  imperfect  glacier,  some  snow- 
slopes,  and  screes.  Presently  we  were  baffled  by  finding  our 
selves  several  times  on  the  top  of  unmanageable  precipices,  but 
at  last  we  lit  on  a  practicable  passage  by  the  side  of  the  main 
stream,  and  soon  reached  the  upper  pastures  of  the  valley, 
from  which  there  was  a  magnificent  view  of  the  Weisshorn, 
the  imaginary  '  M.  Rosa '  of  most  Swiss  guides  and  tourists 
who  do  not  go  to  Zermatt.  I  forgot  to  mention  that  in 
ascending  the  glacier  and  from  the  first  upper  pass  we  had 
extremely  beautiful  and  interesting  views  from  Mt.  Blanc  to  the 
Mt.  Leone  beyond  the  Simplon.  After  a  while  we  left  our 
valley,  and  struck  off  to  the  right  down  awfully  hot  and  dusty 
zig-zags,  ending  at  last  among  vines,  till  we  reached  Sierre  at 
about  5.  As  we  wanted  a  night's  rest  after  our  walk  of 
i2f  hours,  and  the  diligence  was  to  start  cruelly  early,  we 
charred  next  day  to  Martigny,  and  spent  the  afternoon  there. 
When  the  rain  ceased  next  morning,  we  set  off  up  the  Col  de 
Trient,  but  had  our  view  of  the  Rhone  Valley  much  spoiled 
by  a  thick  mist  in  the  distance ;  but  from  the  top  the  S.W. 
looked  so  clear  that  we  decided  to  go  up  the  Col  de  Balme, 
and  were  amply  repaid  by  a  magnificent  view  of  Mt.  Blanc. 
While  my  camera  and  I  were  struggling  with  the  difficulties 
caused  by  the  wind,  Mathison  suddenly  appeared.  He  had 
come  up  from  Chamonix  with  a  party  of  ladies,  and  was  going 
on  to  St.  Gervais  in  the  morning.  We  therefore  gave  up  our 
idea  of  proceeding  beyond  Chamonix  that  night.  .  .  .  That 
evening  we  had  a  most  extraordinary  thunderstorm  at  Cha 
monix.  None  of  us  had  ever  seen  anything  at  all  like  it  : 
large  masses  of  pale  but  brilliant  orange  cloud,  throwing  the 
most  gorgeous  golden  blaze  upon  parts  of  the  Glacier  des 
Bossons  and  its  clear  pinnacles  of  ice,  and  on  the  snowy  bases 
of  the  three  great  Aiguilles  de  Chamonix ;  while  the  sharp 
peaks  themselves  above  were  quite  cold  with  a  ghastly  lilac 
blue.  Next  day  Mathison,  Lightfoot,  and  I  took  a  return 
carriage  to  the  Baths  of  St.  Gervais,  left  it  at  Ouches  to  continue 
its  route  with  the  luggage,  and  walked  over  the  Col  de  Vosa 
to  St.  Gervais  le  village,  getting  magnificent  views  of  the 
Glacier  de  Bionassai  and  its  peaks  by  the  way. 


When  I  began  this  letter  I  was  alone,  Lightfoot  having 
gone  up  the  Val  de  Montjoie  to  cross  the  Col  du  Bonhomme 
and  see  the  view  from  the  Col  de  la  Seigne  (which  I  had  two 
years  ago).  But  two  or  three  hours  after  his  departure  the 
truant  Hawkins  appeared,  along  with  Davies  and  Watson. 
They  had  all  ascended  the  Aiguille  du  Goute,  sleeping  two 
nights  at  the  Pavilion  on  the  Col  de  Vosa,  by  way  of  explora 
tion  for  our  further  proceedings.  We  are,  however,  much 
bothered  by  the  weather  in  spite  of  its  fineness.  For  its 
sultriness  and  other  still  plainer  symptoms  threaten  stormy 
weather,  and  it  will  not  do  to  go  among  the  glaciers  again  till 
that  has  blown  over.  Lightfoot  arrived  last  night  (I  am  now 
writing  on  Sunday  the  lyth),  so  that  we  make  up  a  strong 
party  of  five,  all  fellows  of  Trinity.  This  is  a  very  delightful 
spot  in  spite  of  its  present  heat.  We  are  just  on  the  acclivity 
where  the  mouth  of  the  Val  de  Montjoie  begins  to  break  away 
down  into  the  plain  of  Sallenches,  St.  Gervais-les-bains  lying 
at  the  foot  of  a  ravine  some  hundreds  of  feet  below  us.  The 
people  at  the  Baths  breakfast  at  n,  but  we  are  going  to 
have  a  second  service  for  their  benefit ;  and,  as  Davies  has 
brought  a  carpet-bag,  and  a  white  tie  and  black  clothes  therein, 
we  shall  carry  with  us  some  shadow  of  respectability. 


September  1st,  1856. 

My  dearest  Mother — Still  at  St.  Gervais,  and  perhaps  for 
some  days  more.  .  .  .  This  week  has  not  been  idle,  but  it 
has  hardly  been  satisfactory.  One  great  object  of  our  expedi 
tion  this  year  was  to  ascend  Mt.  Blanc  from  this  side.  I 
did  not  tell  you  before  starting,  fearing  that  the  name  might 
make  you  uneasy.  But  we  had  the  best  reason  to  know  that 
in  reality  the  ascent  does  not  stand  very  high  on  the  list  of 
glacier  excursions  for  either  difficulty  or  danger.  Lightfoot 
and  I  had  all  along  believed  that  the  Strahleck  would  be  a 
very  good  test  of  our  powers ;  and  in  May  I  was  told  by  Mr. 

AGE  28 



Kennedy,  one  of  those  who  last  year  for  the  first  time  made 
the  ascent  from  this  side,  that  it  was  child's  play  compared 
with  the  Strahleck.  The  Chamonix  regulations,  and  all  the 
charlatanry  which  reigns  there  supreme,  have  made  the  ascent 
much  dreaded.  No  one  is  allowed  to  ascend  thence  without 
four  guides  for  each  person  at  100  francs  each,  besides  a 
whole  army  of  porters,  all  of  whom  have  to  be  fed  (at  mountain 
appetites)  for  two  days,  so  that  the  expense  is  said  never  to 
fall  below  £,2S  f°r  each  traveller,  and  sometimes  to  be  higher 
still.  To  crown  the  absurdity,  you  are  obliged  to  take  guides 
exactly  as  they  stand  on  the  list  without  power  of  choice,  so 
that  they  may  happen  to  be  all  bad  ones.  Last  year  a  party  of 
Englishmen,  not  relishing  these  prices  and  regulations,  got  some 
guides  at  Cormayeur,  and  for  the  first  time  on  record  ascended 
the  mountain  from  that  side.  Another  party,  Kennedy, 
Hudson,  etc.,  resolved  to  follow  their  example,  but  found  that 
meanwhile  a  corps  de  guides  had  been  formed,  who  demanded 
le  prix  de  Chamonix^  and  intimidated  some  hunters  who  were 
otherwise  willing  to  accompany  them.  Accordingly,  being 
stout  and  practised  mountaineers,  they  resolved  to  go  them 
selves  without  guides,  merely  taking  porters  as  far  as  the  top 
of  the  Col  du  Geant.  They  ultimately  reached  a  point  within 
two  hours  of  the  top  with  great  difficulty,  and  then  were  driven 
back  by  cloudy  weather.  Having  descended  to  Cormayeur, 
they  came  round  to  St.  Gervais,  secured  three  chasseurs  and 
some  porters,  and  took  them  as  guides  to  the  top  of  the  Dome 
du  Goiite.  There,  the  view  of  the  way  before  them  being 
clear,  and  the  chasseurs  preferring  to  receive  half  pay  for  that 
part  of  the  ascent  to  whole  pay  for  the  whole,  they  dismissed 
them,  and  went  their  way  alone.  They  wished  much  to  try  a 
passage  by  a  ridge  to  the  right  past  the  Bosse  du  Dromadaire, 
but  not  having  time  for  experiments,  pushed  down  into  the 
Grand  Plateau,  thereby  joining  the  Chamonix  route  two  or 
three  hours  from  the  top,  reached  the  top  with  ease,  and  then 
returned  by  the  Chamonix  route.  Later  in  the  season  two 
Irishmen,  Darby 1  and  Reeves,  came  here  and  determined  to 
follow  their  example,  but  with  guides.  Darby  was  taken  ill 
almost  as  soon  as  they  had  started,  but  Reeves  made  a  most 
1  Darley  :  name  indistinct. 


successful  ascent,  returning  to  St.  Gervais.  Our  plan  was  to 
follow  their  example,  pursuing  the  same  route  likewise  with 
guides.  While,  however,  I  was  studying  the  geography 
of  Mt.  Blanc  at  Cambridge,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  was  still  untried  one  probably  practicable  route  to  the 
summit  by  ascending  the  Glacier  du  Miage  (probably  from 
Contamines)  to  the  Col  du  Miage,  and  then  joining  the  ridge 
thought  of  by  Kennedy's  party  near  the  Bosse  du  Dromadaire. 
My  idea  was  that,  if  we  succeeded  by  Kennedy's  route  of  the 
Aiguille  du  Goute,  we  might  try  the  other  (with  guides)  after 
wards.  Curiously  enough,  on  arriving  here,  I  found  that  some 
of  the  chasseurs  were  already  full  of  the  idea,  having  talked  to 
Hudson  about  it  last  year ;  he  had  promised  to  come  and  try 
in  1857,  but  they  had  thoughts  of  trying  alone  this  year.  As 
Hawkins,  Davies,  and  Watson  had  already  been  up  the  Aiguille 
du  Goute,  the  whole  party  were  therefore  fully  disposed  to  try 
a  passage  by  the  Col  du  Miage  first.  Accordingly,  on  the 
afternoon  of  this  day  week  we  set  out  with  four  guides  and 
three  porters,  and  slept  at  a  chalet  high  up  on  the  Mont 
Morasset  over  the  valley  of  Miage.  Our  bed  was  hay,  and 
one  of  the  guides  assured  us  that  we  need  not  be  afraid  of 
cold,  parce  que  les  vaches  sont  en  dessous,  et  vous  en  aurez  la 
chaleur.  There  were,  in  fact,  not  only  vaches  but  cochons  ; 
but  we  should  probably  have  got  to  sleep  before  midnight 
had  it  not  been  for  one  pertinacious  vache  who  carried  a  bell, 
which  she  thought  it  necessary  to  ring  in  a  vicious  manner  at 
intervals  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  •  and  though,  as  Davies  said, 
the  true  hero  would  have  been  he  who  should  have  z^belled 
the  cow,  no  one  was  found  willing  to  undertake  the  feat. 
At  3  we  started  in  the  dark,  at  least  with  only  stars  and  a 
nearly  new  moon,  which  last  was  soon  hid  by  the  mountain 
side.  For  three  hours  we  scrambled  incessantly  round  ridges 
over  rocks,  constantly  ascending  by  a  very  broken  but  not 
really  difficult  route,  then  crossed  a  piece  of  glacier,  and  then 
got  on  rocks  again.  At  7  we  stopped  to  breakfast  and  put 
on  our  gaiters,  descended  upon  the  snow,  crossed  the  head  of 
the  chief  arm  of  the  Glacier  du  Miage,  and  began  to  climb  up 
one  of  the  long  ridges  of  rock  which  reach  from  the  bottom 
nearly  to  the  top.  There  was  not  much  difficulty,  except  from 


the  fresh  snow  intermingled  with  the  rocks.  We  all  carried, 
instead  of  alpenstocks,  the  haches  or  piolets  of  the  country, 
consisting  of  ash-poles  4  to  5  feet  long,  shod  at  one  end  with 
a  strong  iron  point,  and  at  the  other  with  a  double  iron  head, 
a  large  axe  on  one  side  and  a  long  narrow  pick  on  the  other. 
These  we  found  very  useful  whenever  there  was  a  tolerably 
large  slope  of  snow,  as  we  could  hold  on  by  the  pick  without 
cutting  steps  except  occasionally.  We  were  getting  on  famously, 
when  the  weather  changed  and  a  severe  snowstorm  came  on, 
the  wind  blowing  small  hail  in  our  faces.  It  was  in  vain  to 
persevere  in  the  teeth  of  such  an  enemy,  and  about  10  we 
most  unwillingly  turned  round,  being  then  but  ten  minutes 
(the  guides  said ;  /  should  have  said  half  an  hour)  from  the 
top  of  the  col.  Our  only  satisfaction  was  that  we  had  had 
thus  far  a  very  interesting  excursion  on  ground  never  before 
trodden  by  any  but  the  natives.  Having  got  off  the  ridge, 
we  returned  by  an  easier  route  straight  down  the  Glacier  du 
Miage,  all  carefully  roped  together  in  case  of  unseen  crevasses, 
but  without  accident.  On  Thursday  Watson  set  off  for  Eng 
land,  and  we  were  all  rather  inclined  to  follow  his  example, 
when  on  Wednesday  evening  a  sudden  resolution  was  come  to, 
to  try  again  by  the  Aiguille  du  Goute  (a  route  already  known 
to  our  not  too  courageous  guides),  and  not  be  frightened  by 
merely  slightly  unfavourable  weather.  Early  in  the  morning 
Octenier,  the  chief  guide,  was  sent  for ;  he  approved,  and  went 
in  search  of  the  rest,  but  it  was  i  P.M.  before  we  were  off.  We 
dined  at  the  Pavilion  on  the  Col  de  Vosa,  climbed  along  the 
Mont  Lachat  by  a  tolerable  path,  and  reached  the  base  of  the 
Tete  Rousse  just  at  dusk ;  but  here  we  were  able  to  take  to 
the  snow  of  the  Glacier  de  Bionassai,  and  so  easily  ascended 
to  a  little  hut  of  stones  perched  among  the  rocks  at  the  foot 
of  the  Aiguille  du  Goute",  reaching  it  at  8.30.  A  quantity  of 
snow  had  to  be  cleared  out  of  the  inside,  but,  in  trying  to 
remove  what  lay  on  the  scanty  roof,  the  roof  itself  fell  in. 
However,  the  shelter  was  good  from  the  wind,  and  we  had 
taken  up  firewood  and  blankets,  so  that  after  some  tea  we 
lay  down  in  tolerable  comfort,  and  I  got  some  sleep.  At  5  A.M. 
we  started,  crossed  some  snow  and  rocks,  and  a  couloir  or  very 
steep  gully  lined  with  smooth  ice  (now  fortunately  covered  with 


snow),  and  climbed  a  ridge  of  rocks  like  that  on  the  Col  du 
Miage,  but  steeper.  We  got  on  unusually  well,  and  reached 
the  top  at  7.20.  Here  we  breakfasted  and  roped  ourselves, 
reached  the  snowy  top  of  the  Aiguille  immediately,  and  then 
made  for  the  Dome  du  Goute,  a  huge  round  hump  of  snow- 
covered  ice,  getting  peculiarly  interesting  views  on  each  side 
by  the  way.  As,  however,  we  mounted  the  Dome,  a  thick  dry 
cloud  came  on,  and  then  a  most  keen  piercing  wind.  We 
crossed  the  shoulder  near  the  top  (being  not  above  500  or  600 
feet  below  the  height  of  the  top  of  Mt.  Blanc),  and  kept 
moving  on  to  the  right  for  nearly  an  hour,  till  the  guides  told 
us  they  could  not  tell  where  we  were  for  the  cloud,  and  dared 
not  descend,  not  only  on  account  of  the  crevasses,  but  because 
there  might  be  danger  of  having  to  spend  the  night  in  the 
midst  of  the  snow ;  nor  could  we  stand  still  to  wait  for  the 
cloud  to  melt,  lest  our  hands  and  feet  should  be  frozen.  As 
it  was  we  looked  absurd  enough,  with  fringes  of  icicles  hanging 
from  our  beards  and  the  back  of  our  hair.  We  had  no  alter 
native ;  so  about  a  quarter  to  n  A.M.  we  turned  and  retraced 
our  steps  all  the  way.  It  was  now  a  slower  business  to  descend 
the  Aiguille,  as  the  snow  had  become  soft,  but  we  reached  the 
bottom  at  last  in  broad  sunshine,  and  had  the  annoyance  of 
seeing  the  top  clear  above  us,  and  so  it  has  remained  ever 


September  igth,  1856. 

My  dear  Ellerton — I  think  I  wrote  to  you  last  Monday 
fortnight,  after  we  had  twice  failed  to  conquer  Mt.  Blanc,  and 
Hawkins  and  I  were  waiting,  a  sadly  reduced  company,  in 
grim  expectance  to  see  what  better  hopes  a  change  of  weather 
might  bring.  Two  or  three  days  restored  our  eyes  from  their 
inflamed  state;  but  Tuesday  was  all  rain,  and  Wednesday 
rather  threatening.  That  day  Hawkins  went  over  to  Cha- 
monix  and  back,  while  I  scrambled  about  the  forest  with  no 
particular  object.  On  Thursday  we  were  much  tempted  to 


send  for  Octenier,  our  chief  guide,  and  arrange  for  an  im 
mediate  start,  but  forbore  when  we  saw  the  glass  low,  and  set 
out  for  a  moderate  climb  up  the  Prarion  between  the  Cols  de 
Forclaz  and  Vosa,  and  then  down  to  the  Pavilion  on  the  latter 
pass.  Here  we  were  surprised  to  find  Octenier  with  some 
Chamonix  guides.  They  were  going  up  Mt.  Blanc  on  our 
side  with  an  Englishman,  and  urged  us  to  join  him.  This  we 
agreed  to  do,  and  at  once  sent  down  Octenier  to  St.  Gervais 
to  fetch  more  men  and  some  things  which  we  should  want  on 
the  mountain,  while  we  remained  at  the  Pavilion  for  the  rest 
of  the  day  and  slept  there.  At  9  next  morning  we  all  set  out, 
and  had  an  extremely  pleasant  day.  The  rocky  ribs  of  the 
Aiguille  de  Goute  were  tolerably  free  from  snow,  and  we  got 
up  with  great  ease,  only  incommoded  by  a  cold  wind.  We 
reached  the  top  of  the  Aiguille  at  6.15  P.M.,  meaning  to  sleep 
there ;  but  found  the  wind  on  the  top  so  violent  and  freezing, 
and  the  only  shelter  in  the  rocks  so  unsheltering,  that  all 
declared  it  would  be  death  to  lie  down  for  the  night.  A  pro 
posal  to  push  on  over  the  Dome  down  to  the  Grand  Plateau, 
and  so  to  the  hut  on  the  Grands  Mulcts,  where  we  might  pass 
the  night  and  reascend  next  morning,  after  a  rapid  start,  was 
abandoned  by  the  guides  for  sufficient  reasons,  and  most  re 
luctantly  we  once  more  set  our  faces  northwards,  and  pro 
ceeded  to  scramble  down  the  Aiguille  as  hard  as  we  could. 
Night  was  upon  us,  however,  by  the  time  we  were  two-thirds 
down,  and  then  came  the  rather  ticklish  work  of  traversing 
the  great  icy  couloir  (inclined  at  an  angle  of  47°)  and  snow 
slopes  leading  down  to  it  with  no  light  but  that  of  one  lantern. 
We  were  very  cautious  and  took  plenty  of  time,  thereby  elimi 
nating  nearly  all  the  danger.  It  was  past  i  o  when  we  reached 
the  half-ruinous  cabam  at  the  foot  of  the  Aiguille  where  we 
had  slept  a  week  before.  It  was  tempting  to  pass  the  night 
there  and  try  our  luck  again  next  day ;  but  the  overcast  sky 
soon  caused  a  general  vote  for  an  immediate  return  to  the 
Pavilion  at  all  risks.  We  despatched  a  good  quantity  of 
supper,  and  then  at  near  11.30  set  out  down  the  Glacier  de 
Bionassai,  mostly  in  pairs.  The  ice  was  very  steep,  and  we 
were  not  inclined  to  waste  time  on  needless  caution ;  so  we 
got  down  in  a  very  short  time  by  a  mixture  of  all  possible  in- 


tentional  and  unintentional  motions,  of  which  sliding  (of  both 
categories)  was  perhaps  the  chief.  Then  came  a  scrambling, 
stumbling  walk,  almost  run,  down  the  Pierre  Ronde,  happily 
without  injury  to  ankle  or  shin.  After  a  little  exploratory 
climbing,  we  struck  the  path  of  the  Mt.  Lachat.  Here  a 
candle  encompassed  with  paper  made  believe  to  give  us  a  little 
more  light,  as  a  good  part  of  the  winding  path  lay  along  the 
edge  of  rough  crags  and  craggy  slopes ;  but  we  did  not  relax 
our  pace.  Suddenly  we  felt  a  sharp  shower  of  snow  and  hail ; 
and  then  pitiless  rain,  which  never  ceased.  When  we  had 
left  the  Mt.  Lachat,  but  one  mass  of  mountain  remained,  of 
steep  sloping  grass  without  rock.  Here  we  failed  to  find  the 
thin  path  which  runs  along  the  side.  In  the  hope  of  cross 
ing  it  we  made  a  long  traverse  nearly  vertically  downwards  for 
a  great  way,  and  then  another  upward ;  and  then  one  guide 
after  another  rushed  off  in  various  directions  with  the  lantern 
(the  rain  had  long  conquered  the  candle),  while  we  stood  in 
the  rain  leaning  on  our  axes  against  the  steep  incline  of  the 
hill  in  such  utter  darkness  that  one  might  have  touched  the 
other  without  being  seen.  But  even  the  rain  failed  to  drown 
the  excitement  and  enjoyment  of  so  novel  an  expedition, 
though  it  certainly  did  somewhat  damp  the  high  spirits  in 
which  we  had  floundered  down  the  glacier.  At  last,  in  despair 
of  finding  the  path,  we  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  ridge,  know 
ing  that  it  must  take  us  right  at  last,  and  pursued  it  till  it 
ended  in  a  rough  incline  of  wet  juniper,  down  and  through 
which  we  flopped  with  some  discomfort.  At  last  at  a  quarter  to 
4  A.M.  we  reached  the  Pavilion,  and  after  comforting  the  outer 
and  inner  man  tumbled  into  bed  and  slept  till  a  late  hour,  when 
we  rose,  breakfasted,  and  descended  ingloriously  to  St.  Gervais 
through  the  close  spungy  air.  .  .  .  In  the  afternoon  [of  Sunday] 
I  read  prayers  in  my  sole  attire,  shooting  jacket,  flannel  shirt, 

black  tie,  beard,  etc.,  and '  said  a  few  words,'  looking 

terribly  respectable.  These  '  words '  by  their  coherence,  sense, 
adhesion  to  the  text,  and  charity,  reminded  me  not  a  little  oi 
Cams.  On  Monday  we  dillied  to  Geneva,  and  slept  there. 
On  Tuesday  we  steamed  to  Morges,  railed  to  Chavornay, 
dillied  to  Dole,  and  railed  to  Paris.  ...  I  was  able  to  reach 
home  on  Friday  evening. 


I  have  tried  to  develop  four  of  the  photographs  with  but 
partial  success ;  and  am  going  to  leave  the  rest  to  be  done  at 
Cambridge  under  William  Kingsley's  advice ;  but  I  fear  few 
of  them  had  sufficiently  long  exposure. 


HARDWICK,  January  istandZth,  1857. 

My  dear  Ellerton — You  are  a  bad  bad  boy  to  leave  me 
without  a  letter  from  July  to  January,  and  accordingly  my  first 
letter  for  the  New  Year  shall  be  devoted  to  stirring  you  up. 
Last  term  seems  to  have  melted  away  unawares.  Though  I 
read  incessantly  for  Coleridge  from  the  day  of  my  return  to 
England,  very  little  was  actually  on  paper  when  I  reached 
Cambridge,  and  so  I  had  hard  work  for  weeks,  and  at  last 
sent  off  to  press  without  any  revision.  My  allotted  space 
was  30  pages,  but  I  could  not  squeeze  into  less  than  60,  and 
so  shall  have  to  pay  for  the  paper  and  printing  of  the  last  two 
sheets.  This  is  rather  a  hard  case,  but  I  made  the  offer, 
preferring  that  amount  of  loss  to  the  mutilation  of  my  essay, 
which  is  already  frightfully  condensed,  little  more  than  written 
in  shorthand.  Indeed,  I  had  to  leave  out  dozens  of  things 
that  I  wished  to  say,  and  nearly  everything  which  lies  on  the 
surface  of  Coleridge's  writings,  patent  to  the  whole  world. 
However,  I  hope  I  have  done  something  towards  making 
Coleridge's  life  intelligible,  and  putting  any  thoughtful 
man  seriously  and  honestly  troubled  with  such  questions  in 
the  way  of  receiving  benefit  from  the  workings  of  Coleridge's 
mind,  and  that  is  all  that  need  be  wished  for.  I  have  not 
written  for  the  public,  and  shall  doubtless  be  castigated 
accordingly.  I  hope  you  have  not  neglected  the  other  papers 
in  the  volume.  Grote's,  Maine's,  and  Francis'  are  especially 
worth  reading.  Altogether  the  company  is  good,  and  likely 
to  become  better,  for  Trench  writes  on  English  Dictionaries 
in  our  next  volume,  and  Gladstone  on  Homer  and  his  use  in 
education  in  the  next  Oxford  volume. 

A  good  piece  of  the  rest  of  term  was  taken  up  in  editorial 
work  for  the.  Journal  of  Philology,  and  preparing  a  longish  lexico- 


graphical  article  on  limes.1  There  is  nothing  in  the  number 
that  would  interest  you,  I  fear,  except  an  excellent  paper  of 
Lightfoot's  on  the  Galatians.  I  was  absent  for  some  days  at 
Oxford,  having  gone  there  to  the  first  anniversary  meeting  of 
their  Working  Men's  College  or  rather  '  Educational  Institution.' 
Its  founder,  Maskelyne,  the  Reader  in  Mineralogy,  was  in 
Cambridge  a  little  while  before  on  a  visit  to  Vansittart,  and  he 
was  anxious  that  Cambridge  should  not  be  unrepresented, 
especially  as  Maurice  was  going  down  from  London.  It  seemed 
that  no  one  could  go  but  Roby  and  myself,  and  so  we  went. 
I  picked  up  Maurice  on  the  way  and  had  some  pleasant  talk 
with  him  in  the  Great  Western.  He  had  been  seriously  ill,  but 
was  much  better  and  in  good  spirits.  ...  In  the  evening  the 
dinner  passed  off  very  well.  Maurice's  speech  was  very  fairly 
given  (from  the  Morning  Post^  I  think)  in  the  Guardian. 
Mine  happily  was  spared,  unless  it  has  got  into  some  Oxford 
paper ;  I  have  seldom  felt  more  uncomfortable  than  when  I 
sat  down.  The  best  speeches,  except  Maurice's,  were  Dr. 
Acland's  2  and  Spottiswoode's,  one  of  the  Queen's  printers ;  he 
seems  to  have  organized  much  such  institutions  among  his 
men  as  the  Wilsons  have  done  in  their  candle  factory.  It  was 
on  the  whole  a  severe  proceeding — five  hours  and  eighteen 

speeches ;   poor could  not  have  survived  it  if  he  had 

been  there,  for  we  had  only  two  small  mugs  of  beer  for 
dinner  and  speeches  too.  The  Oxford  institution  is  much 
more  democratic  than  ours,  being  got  up  and  managed  by  the 
men  themselves,  and  five  only  of  the  teachers  University  men, 
and  they  nothing  but  teachers ;  but  apparently  no  other 
constitution  could  have  succeeded  in  Oxford;  and,  by  con 
ciliating  the  whims  of  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen,  they  have 
obtained  the  use  of  the  Guildhall  and  accompanying  rooms 
gratis,  which  is  an  enormous  advantage.  As  far  as  I  was  able 
to  discover,  they  have  hardly  ventured  to  turn  rhetorical 
lectures  into  honest  plodding  catechetical  lessons.  That  night 

1  Journal  of  Classical  and  Sacred  Philology ',   No.  ix.  p.    350.      The 
article  is  an  exhaustive  and  satisfactory  account  of  the  connexion  between 
the  various  meanings  of  this  difficult  Latin  word,  and  is  interesting  for 
personal   reasons,    because    little    remains   of    Hort's    work    on    purely 
'  classical '  subjects. 

2  Now  Sir  Henry  Acland. 



Dr.  Acland  came  in  to  Maskelyne's  to  see  Maurice,  and  we 
had  a  most  delightful  midnight  chat.  There  are  few  men 
whom  I  have  more  wished  to  know,  and  few  seemingly  better 
worth  knowing.  Next  day  I  went  to  see  the  new  Museums 
now  building  from  the  plans  of  a  new  architect,  Woodward, 
who  seems  to  be  a  true  genius.  I  remember  the  plans  being 
spoken  of  in  the  Gimrdian,  when  they  were  chosen ;  and  at 
that  time  they  were  called  'Rhenish  Gothic,'  to  me  a  most 
unaccountable  name.  I  should  call  it  nearly  pure  Veronese 
Gothic  of  the  best  and  manliest  type,  in  a  new  and  striking 
combination.  It  can  hardly  be  judged  fairly  for  some  months 
to  come,  but  I  shall  be  much  surprised  if  it  does  not  prove  to 
be  nearly  the  finest  building  in  England,  incomparably  the 
finest  modern  building.  The  inner  quadrangle  is  surrounded 
with  two  arcades  one  over  the  other,  each  consisting  of  a 
series  of  pairs  of  arches  surrounded  with  alternate  slabs  of  (I 
think)  oolite  and  very  pale  old  red  flagstone ;  the  arches  of 
each  pair  separated  by  a  polished  shaft  of  marble  or  serpentine, 
all  of  different  colours,  all  British,  and  all  presented  by  friends. 
Between  each  pair  of  arches  is  to  be  a  niche  containing  a 
statue  of  some  hero  of  science.  Monro  is  now  at  work  at 
Galileo,  etc.,  and  Thomas  is  to  do  some  others.  That  day  I 
lunched  with  the  George  Butlers,  and  had  a  delightful  talk 
with  Mrs.  Butler.  Goldwin  Smith  came  in,  and  looked  as  if 
he  could  be  a  good  companion,  if  he  chose.  I  dined  at 
Wadham  with  Maskelyne,  and  in  the  evening  he  had  a  small 
party,  which,  was  not  equal  to  what  I  had  hoped.  My  old 
friend  Shirley  was  too  busy  examining  to  be  able  to  appear, 
and  William  Thomson  of  Queen's  and  his  Greek  bride  were 
engaged.  I  received  a  note  from  Finder  of  Trinity  entreating 
me  to  stay  till  Thursday,  as  our  mutual  friend  Curtler *  was 
coming  up  next  day,  and  he  wanted  me  to  meet  him  at  dinner. 
This  was  a  potent  temptation.  I  breakfasted  next  day  at 
Oriel  with  Arthur  Butler,  and  had  a  very  pleasant  morning, 
walking  away  afterwards  with  Conington  to  his  rooms,  and 
getting  a  capital  talk  with  him.  He  is  really  a  thoroughly 
great  and  wise  man.  In  the  afternoon  I  had  a  walk  with 

1  Mr.  W.  H.  Curlier  was  in  Hort's  year  at  Rugby,  and  had  a  brilliant 
career  there. 


Shirley,  who  likewise  showed  that  he  had  lost  none  of  his  old 
good  sense.  At  dinner  at  Trinity  I  met  several  old  Rugby 
contemporaries,  besides  Finder  and  Curtler,  and  also  Frederick 
Meyrick  (author  of  The  Working  of  the  Church  in  Spain), 
whom  I  was  very  glad  to  know ;  he  has  a  singularly  beautiful 
face,  and  seemingly  a  corresponding  mind.  It  was  alto 
gether  a  most  delightful  evening.  Curtler,  Shirley,  and  my 
self  had  sat  next  to  each  other  without  interruption  for 
three  years  and  a  half  before  we  left  Rugby,  we  were 
exhibitioners  together,  and  I  had  not  seen  either  of  them 
from  that  time  to  this.  They  are  now  both  heads  of 
families,  but  are  not  a  whit  changed.  So  that  you  can 
imagine  what  a  pleasant  evening  I  had.  Next  morning  I 
breakfasted  with  Conington.  Mark  Pattison  was  there,  but 
did  not  speak  at  all ;  he  is  a  thoughtful-looking  man,  with  the 
thinnest  lips  I  ever  saw.  After  breakfast  I  went  with  Maske- 
lyne  to  the  Convocation  House  and  took  an  ad  eundem.  I 
was  very  near  taking  a  very  ambiguous  degree,  for,  as  I 
entered  the  Convocation  House,  I  heard  the  V.  C.  reading 
out  my  name  as  belonging  to  Trinity  College  juxta  Dublinam  ; 
however  the  mistake  was  rectified  before  the  more  serious 
part  of  the  ceremony  was  performed.  In  the  middle  of  the 
day  I  set  off  for  Cambridge.  I  should  not  forget  to  say  that 
Oxford  is  improving  architecturally  in  various  ways.  G.  G. 
Scott  has  done  a  great  deal  for  Exeter,  and  is  building  a  very 
beautiful  chapel  for  Balliol.  Jowett  I  was  sorry  not  to  see, 
but  Conington  told  me  it  is  impossible  to  get  him  out. 

I  stayed  at  Cambridge  till  a  couple  of  days  before  Christ 
mas,  and  then  went  down  into  Devonshire  on  a  visit  to  the 
Bullers,  whom  I  met  at  Venice  two  years  ago.  .  .  .  One  day 
I  walked  over  (three  miles)  to  Ottery  St.  Mary,  which  was  very 
interesting  to  me  both  as  Coleridge's  birthplace  and  for  its 
own  sake.  His  odd  old  father's  monument  is  in  the  church, 
and  there  are  three  families  of  Coleridges  in  the  neighbourhood, 
including  the  Justice's.  The  church  itself  is  a  very  singular, 
nearly  perfect  Early  English  abbey,  with  one  Tudor  aisle,  and 
an  extremely  elaborate  reredos  and  other  internal  work  of  very 
late  frivolous  and  extravagant  Decorated  character.  The 
church  has  been  excellently  restored,  chiefly  by  the  Coleridges, 


and  has  many  beautiful  points  about  it,  but  does  not  rise 
above  English  commonplace.  In  a  curious  upper  vestry  we 
found  the  damp  and  mouldering  remains  of  what  must  once 
have  been  a  valuable  library,  beginning  with  Erasmus  and 
other  publications  of  the  early  Basle  press,  and  seemingly  rich 
in  the  theology  of  the  Restoration.  .  .  . 

I  am  just  now  chiefly  occupied  about  a  proposed  Cam 
bridge  translation  1  of  the  whole  of  Plato.  Revised  editions 
of  Davies  and  Vaughan's  Republic,  and  Wright's  Phcedrus, 
Lysis,  and  Protagoras  are  to  be  included ;  and  the  rest  will  be 
divided  between  six  translators,  who  are  pretty  certain  to  be 
Lightfoot,  Joe  Mayor,  Benson,  Montagu  Butler,  Hawkins,  and 
myself.  We  are  getting  to  work  immediately,  but  shall  prob 
ably  not  begin  to  print  till  all  or  nearly  all  the  MSS.  (in 
cluding  short  introductions  and  a  few  necessary  notes)  are 
ready ;  and  then  publish  in  eight  successive  octavo  volumes. 
My  share  (as  at  present  arranged)  includes  some  of  the 
stiffest  dialogues  of  all;  being  the  Timceus,  Sophista,  Par- 
menides,  Menexenus,  lo,  and  the  spurious  Timceus  Locrus, 
Sisyphus,  Cleitophon,  and  Definitions.  We  mean  to  keep  the 
matter  quiet  just  at  present,  and  not  to  tell  even  our  Cambridge 
friends :  when  we  have  made  good  progress  a  full  prospectus 
is  likely  to  appear. 

Another  scheme  likely  to  be  carried  out,  if  a  publisher  can 
be  found,  is  a  Cambridge  Shakspere,  containing  the  text  only 
(at  least  in  the  first  instance),  with  all  the  various  readings  of 
the  quartos  and  folios,  and  the  chief  conjectures  of  critics,  on 
the  same  page,  like  a  well -edited  classical  work.  This  has 
been  a  favourite  idea  2  of  mine  for  several  years,  and  so  it  has 
been  (independently)  of  Clark ;  and  he  is  likely  to  have  the 
main  direction  of  the  edition,  if  it  ever  comes  into  existence.  .  .  . 

Vansittart  is  a  pretty  constant  resident,  to  the  great 
satisfaction  of  us  all,  and,  I  think,  of  himself;  he  acts  as  a  kind 

1  W.  H.  Thompson  (afterwards  Master  of  Trinity)  was  to  be  asked  to 
edit  the  '  Cambridge  Plato. '     Ilort  worked  steadily  for  some  years  at  his 
share  of  the  scheme  ;    the   Tiniu-its  interested  him  most.      The  project, 
however,  languished,  was  revived  in  1860,  and  at  last  reluctantly  given  up. 

2  The  idea  was   realised   in  the  famous  '  Cambridge  Shakspere '  of 
Mr.  W.  G.  Clark  and  Mr.  Aldis  Wright. 


of  Cambridge  7r/oo£evos  of  Oxford  men.  For  a  wonder  he  is 
gone  this  winter  to  Nice,  but  returns  by  the  end  of  the  month. 
I  shall  be  curious  to  know  what  you  think  of  Bradshaw's 
devotion  of  his  life  to  the  University  Library.  //  is  very  lucky  to 
get  him ;  but  I  cannot  help  thinking  that  so  affectionate  and 
genial  a  creature  is  thrown  away  on  mere  dry  bibliography  and 
yet  more  mechanical  work.  But  he  seems  at  present  to  like  it. 

One  great  pleasure  this  term  has  been  Trench's  visits, 
required  by  his  being  University  Preacher  for  November. 
The  matter  of  the  sermons  was  in  the  main  solid  and  good. 
The  first,  on  John  i.  i,  8,  was  peculiarly  grand  and  deep,  as 
well  as  courageous ;  but  I  found  no  one  except  Lightfoot  to 
enter  into  it,  and  it  was  generally  abused  and  derided  as  un 
intelligible  mysticism.  The  other  sermons,  which  were  much 
more  commonplace,  were  very  popular,  and  restored  the 
confidence  of  many  foolish  alarmists.  But  it  was  in  con 
versation  that  I  liked  Trench  best,  especially  at  Thompson's, 
with  whom  he  was  twice  staying.  He  took  great  pains  to 
dispel  the  notion  that  his  decanal  dignity  was  going  to  make 
him  more  of  a  don,  and  seemed  vastly  amused  at  finding 
himself  among  what  he  called  'the  shovelry  of  England.' 
Sometimes,  however,  he  was  very  grave  and  silent ;  and  he 
seems  (like  Maurice,  though  partly  on  different  grounds)  to  be 
oppressed  with  a  fearful  foreboding  of  coming  evils,  especially 
of  an  outburst  of  rampant  and  aggressive  atheism  throughout 
Europe.  .  .  . 

I  suppose  you  have  seen  Maurice's  two  new  books.  The 
Mediczval  Philosophy  is  a  treat  indeed  :  he  improves  wonder 
fully  as  he  advances  by  more  and  more  allowing  his  authors  to 
speak  for  themselves,  and  keeping  separate  his  own  comments, 
where  any  are  needed.  The  accounts  of  St.  Anselm,  Joannes 
Erigena,  Abelard,  Duns  Scotus,  and  Roger  Bacon  are,  I 
think,  singularly  profound  and  beautiful.  The  wit  and 
elasticity  quite  remind  one  of  his  earliest  writings.  The  St. 
John  I  have  just  finished.  It  is  not  exactly  a  striking  book, 
but  I  do  not  think  I  have  learned  so  much  from  any  book  for 
many  years,  and  that  almost  solely  from  its  merits  as  inter 
preting  the  life  of  Christ,  not  as  expounding  hard  sayings  of 
the  discourses.  In  this  latter  respect  it  is  not  very  successful, 

AGE  28 



and  there  is  throughout  a  painful  swallowing  up  and  oblitera 
tion  of  subordinate  truths  that  will,  I  fear,  make  the  book 
repulsive  and  unintelligible  to  many  who  might  otherwise 
profit  from  it :  for  instance,  the  language  about  the  Eucharist 
is  very  unsubstantial  and  far  inferior  to  what  he  has  said  in  his 
letter  in  Fraser.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  a  great  relief  to 
find  that  his  views  about  resurrection  and  judgment  do  not 
lead  him  to  reject  a  future  general  Resurrection  and  Judgment. 
But  I  feel  ashamed  of  saying  a  word  against  a  book  which 
seems  to  me  of  such  transcendent  value,  one  that  we  shall 
read  and  re-read  years  after  he  has  gone  as  at  once  the  most 
helpful  of  lesson  books  for  daily  life  and  the  most  pregnant  of 
prophecies.  .  .  . 

Now  I  have  written  you  a  tolerably  long  letter l  (though  I 
might  go  on  for  ever),  especially  considering  that  you  are  in 
my  debt.  I  want  to  hear  from  you  about  all  manner  of 

things,  inter  alia  about ,  who  by  inanity  and  stateliness 

seemed  to  me  at  Cambridge  cut  out  for  a  Belgrave  Square 
head  footman.  But  I  did  not  hear  him  speak.  About  public 
matters  of  all  kinds  one  can  say  only  kismet.  It  seems  to 
me  that  1855  opened  more  cheerfully  than  1857.  However, 
bona  verba.  Do  write  soon  and  long. — Ever  yours  affection 
ately,  FENTON  J.  A.  HORT. 

TO    THE    REV.    J.    B.     LlGHTFOOT 

HARDWICK,  CHEPSTOW,  January  $tk,  1857. 

I  like  your  recommending  me  to  read  the  Plurality 
of  Worlds?  It  robs  me  of  the  fancied  distinction  of  having 
been  the  last  man  in  Trinity  to  read  it,  as  I  did  some 
where  about  a  year  ago.  We  shall  not  differ  about  its 
merits  and  interest,  though  he  does  pat  planets  condescend 
ingly,  as  if  they  were  Newton's  head.  But  I  did  not  need 
'  conversion,'  never  having  been  a  pluralist,  I  believe ;  at 
least,  not  as  long  as  I  can  recollect.  When  the  subject 
was  proposed  for  the  Seatonian  a  year  or  two  ago,  I  was 

1  Nine  sheets  of  letter  paper. 

2  By  W.  Whewell. 


much  tempted  to  try,  for  the  sake  of  taking  a  motto  from  the 
beginning  of  '  Peter  Bell,' — "Such  company,  I  like  it  not," 
or  some  of  the  following  stanzas. 

My  only  doubt  about  your  writing  on  vo/z,o?  and  6  vo/zos 
would  arise  from  the  question  whether  it  is  wise  to  treat  the 
matter  as  an  isolated  phenomenon  of  a  single  writer,  the  usage 
being,  as  I  believe,  strictly  accurate  and  grammatical.  It  is 
really  one  particular  case  of  the  theory  of  articles  and  their 
omission,  on  which  I  have  often  thought  of  writing,  especially 
in  connexion  with  the  logical  question  of  the  quantification  of 
the  predicate.  But  more  of  this  when  we  meet.  You  have  been 
so  long  about  Our  Lord's  Brethren  that  you  ought  to  produce 
something  soon.  Why  apologize  for  writing  about  yourself? 
Never  be  ashamed  of  doing  your  duty.  In  the  present  un 
developed  state  of  clairvoyance  how  otherwise  is  it  possible 
to  tell  what  one's  friends  are  doing?  /  have  been  doing 
scarce  anything  beyond  reading  some  Timceus. 


HARDWICK,  January  6th,  1857. 

...   I  am  very  glad  to  hear  that  the  St.  John 1  has  sold 
so  well.     I  have  still  two  sermons  to  read.   .    .   .   The  book 
disappointed  me   at   first,    perhaps   because   I   had  a  wrong 
craving  for  rhetoric  •  but  I  still  think  he  does  not  sufficiently 
get  the  steam  up  in  the  earlier  sermons  :  they  hang  heavily, 
and  want  the  fire  of  the  Prophets  and  Kings.     But  below  the 
surface  there  are  deeper  and  more  enduring  (?)  qualities,  which 
give  a  peculiar  value  to  the  book.     I  do  not  think  it  very 
successful  with  the  body  of  the  discourses,  or  with  most  of  the 
hard  sayings  contained  in  them  ;  but  nothing  comes  near  it  in 
its  power  of  showing  their  relation  to  the  narrative,  and  inter 
preting  the  narrative  itself.     Such  a  Life  of  Christ  has  never 
been  written.     I  cannot  tell  the  number  of  deep  matters,  not 
at  all  directly  theological,  on  which  it  has  incidentally  given 
me  the  truest  help.     It  is  at  the  same  time  a  singular  and 
perhaps  unconscious  justification  of  Maurice's  own  method 
and  the  purpose  of  his  life. 

1  Maurice's  edition. 


The  year  1856  proved  to  be  the  last  complete  year  of 
Hort's  Cambridge  residence  till  his  return  thither  in  1872. 
In  February  1857  ne  became  engaged  to  Miss  Fanny 
Dyson  Holland,  daughter  of  Mr.  Thomas  Dyson  Hol 
land  of  Heighington,  near  Lincoln.  Miss  Holland's 
family  were  intimate  at  Cheltenham  with  Hort's  friends 
the  Blunts.  A  few  days  after  his  engagement  he  was 
presented  to  the  college  living  of  St.  Ippolyts-cum- 
Great  Wymondley,  near  Hitchin,  and  there  he  settled 
in  June  with  his  wife,  and  entered  on  a  new  chapter  of 

Of  his  marriage  it  is  difficult  to  speak  ;  the  whole 
subject  of  marriage  had  been  much  in  his  thoughts  for 
some  time  past ;  he  had  studied  it,  not  in  relation  to 
himself,  but  as  a  social  problem  of  supreme  importance. 
"  For  many  years,"  to  quote  from  one  of  his  letters, 
"  this  particular  question  has  filled  a  larger  place  in 
my  thoughts  than  any  other,  and  I  have  anxiously 
watched  everything  going  on  around  me  which  might 
throw  light  upon  it."  A  series  of  most  careful  letters 
too  private  for  publication  shows  that  he  had  attacked 
the  question  from  all  sides  with  characteristic  thorough 
ness  and  fearlessness.  He  had  reached  the  conclusion 
that  no  life  of  man  or  woman  attains  its  full  purpose 
in  the  single  condition.  The  highest  language  in  the 
Bible  on  marriage,  as  illustrated  by  the  union  of  Christ 
and  His  Church,  expressed  for  him  the  most  living 
reality.  To  him  personally,  apart  from  the  conclusions 
to  which  reason  seemed  to  point,  it  was  a  necessity  of 
his  nature  to  have  one  nearest  to  him  with  whom  to 
share  his  every  thought  It  is  no  paradox  to  say  that 
this  necessity  was  the  natural  outcome  of  his  reserve  ; 
reserved  and  sensitive  as  he  was  to  the  highest  degree, 
he  had  always  even  in  college  days  opened  his  whole 
VOL.  I  2  A 


mind  to  his  one  or  two  intimate  friends,  and  marriage 
afforded  him  now  full  satisfaction  of  the  craving  which 
had  driven  him  to  communicate  his  thoughts  and  feel 
ings  to  Blunt  and  Ellerton.  Without  marriage  the  full 
humanity  which  endeared  him  to  so  many  would  have 
been  incomplete.  He  deprecated  vehemently  the  idea 
that  books  were  his  life  ;  he  preferred  to  call  them  his 
'  tools.'  "  I  have  never,"  he  once  said,  "  cared  much 
for  books,  except  in  so  far  as  they  might  help  to  quicken 
our  sense  of  the  reality  of  life,  and  enable  us  to  enter 
into  its  right  and  wrong  " ;  or  again,  "  Such  entities  as 
scholar,  author,  clergyman,  and  the  like,  are  worthless 
and  worse  for  all  else  except  so  far  as  they  are  rooted 
in  the  entire  man,  first  of  all,  and  last  of  all." 

Moreover,  his  sense  of  the  meaning  of  home  was 
very  strong  ;  he  had  never  forgotten  Leopardstown, 
and  now,  looking  forward  to  his  marriage,  he  speaks  of 
"  being  about  to  carry  on  the  old  home  life,  the  heavenly 
calm  of  which  seems  so  strangely  distant  across  the 
restlessness  of  intervening  years."  His  college  rooms, 
he  said,  had  been  "  the  best  substitute  for  a  home,  but 
nothing  in  any  wise  like  a  home."  The  interest  which 
he  showed  in  the  smallest  details  of  preparation  was 
illustrative  of  the  feeling  attached  to  the  change,  in 
which  nothing  was  too  small  to  be  important. 

The  parting  from  Cambridge  was,  however,  doubt 
less  a  severe  wrench  ;  his  interests  in  the  place  had 
grown  every  year,  and  he  was  taking  an  important 
part  in  the  graduate  life  of  the  University.  He  was 
consulted  by  all  sorts  of  men  on  a  great  variety  of 
subjects,  and  his  correspondents  had  lately  come  to  be 
very  numerous.  "Your  letter,"  wrote  one  of  them, 
"  confirms  me  in  the  impression  which  I  had  formed, 
that  it  would  be  difficult  to  consult  you  on  any  subject 

AGE  21 


that  you  would  not  throw  light  upon."  Yet  marriage 
and  parish  work  caused  no  cessation  of  his  many-sided 
activity.  Throwing  himself  with  entire  devotion  into 
every  task  which  his  new  work  laid  upon  him,  he  still 
pursued  the  aims,  which  as  a  scholar  and  thinker  at 
Cambridge  he  had  set  before  himself,  with  vigour  and 
hopefulness  quickened  by  the  sympathy  with  which  his 
life  had  been  newly  blessed. 


February  2ydy  1857. 

My  dear  Westcott — In  spite  of  the  vagueness  of  my  last 
note  you  will  perhaps  have  been  looking  for  me  before  this 
time.  I  may  therefore  as  well  say  at  once  that  the  '  business ' 
which  has  detained  me  has  been  of  a  tolerably  engrossing 
character.  The  result  of  it  is  that  I  am  going  to  be  married. 

All  particulars  I  must  reserve  till  we  meet ;  but  it  seems 
as  if  all  the  perfectness  of  the  one  great  blessing  were  coming 
upon  me. 

You  must  not  suppose  that  this  change  of  condition  will 
alter  my  literary  plans.  On  the  contrary,  I  hope  to  go  on  with 
the  New  Testament  text  more  unremittingly  at  St.  Ippollits 
(sic)  (which  living,  near  Hitchin,  I  forgot  to  say  that  I  have 
taken)  than  at  Cambridge. 



1857-1863.     Age  29-35. 

THE  village  of  St.  Ippolyts  is  about  two  miles  from 
Hitchin,  lying  a  little  way  off  the  road  from  Hitchin 
to  London.  The  vicarage  has  a  large  garden,  and  is 
an  almost  ideal  country  parsonage.  Fortunately  a 
careful  description  of  the  place  and  its  people  by  Hort 
himself  is  extant  in  a  letter1  to  Mr.  Gerald  Blunt. 

Of  society,  of  course,  there  was  not  much,  but 
several  neighbours  became  before  long  intimate  friends. 
A  few  yards  from  the  vicarage  lived  Mrs.  Amos,  at  a 
house  called  St,  Ibbs,  a  still  further  abbreviated  form 
of  St.  Hippolytus'  name  ;  she  was  the  kindly  squireen 
of  the  village,  and  her  son,  Sheldon  Amos,  author  of 
many  works  on  constitutional  and  international  law, 
was  Hort's  companion  in  many  afternoon  walks,  in  the 
course  of  which  they  discussed  at  large  political  and 
philosophical  questions.  The  vicar  of  Hitchin  was 
another  ex-fellow  of  Trinity,  the  Rev.  Lewis  Hensley, 
and  the  rural  dean,  the  Rev.  G.  Blomfield,  became  a 
close  ally.  At  Hitchin  were  Mr.  J.  H.  Tuke,  author  of 
Irish  Distress  and  its  Remedies,  and  other  pamphlets  on 
similar  subjects,  and  Mr.  Frederick  Seebohm,  author 

1  See  pp.  388-90. 




of  The  Oxford  Reformers,  The  English  Village  Com 
munity,  etc.  Some  other  neighbours,  who,  like  a 
considerable  number  of  prominent  Hitchin  people, 
belonged  to  the  Society  of  Friends,  came  frequently 
to  St.  Ippolyts'  Church  to  hear  Hort  preach.  When 
the  Ladies'  College  was  founded  at  Hitchin,  some  of  the 
students  used  now  and  then  to  come  over  on  Sundays  ; 
one  of  these,  Miss  Welsh,  now  Principal  of  Girton 
College,  thus  gives  her  recollections  : — 

Mr.  Hort  was  still  at  St.  Ippolyts  when  I  entered  as  a 
student  in  1871,  and  I  well  remember  how,  attracted  by  what 
we  heard  of  him  from  his  former  pupils  (see  vol.  ii.  p.  57),  some 
other  students  of  my  own  year  and  myself  walked  over  one 
Sunday  in  our  first  term  to  morning  service  at  St.  Ippolyts  to 
hear  him  preach.  I  can  still  recall  the  pleasant  walk  through 
the  Hertfordshire  lanes,  hung  with  bramble  and  wild  clematis, 
and  the  pretty  village  at  the  end  with  its  quaint  old  church, 
and,  above  all,  the  delight  with  which  we  listened  to  the  first 
of  the  many  sermons  we  heard  within  its  walls.  I  cannot 
analyse  the  characteristics  in  those  sermons  which  produced 
such  an  effect,  but  what  I  remember  best  is  the  impression  of 

h  extraordinary  breadth  which  his  treatment  of  the  text  always 
conveyed,  and  the  earnestness  of  delivery  which  lent  weight 
to  every  word.  It  was  marvellous  to  find  such  a  wealth  of 
thought,  such  manifest  carefulness  of  preparation  in  addresses 
to  a  village  audience. 

At  Hitchin  and  afterwards  at  Welwyn,  six  miles 
from  St.  Ippolyts,  lived  Mr.  C.  W.  Wilshere,  a  genial 
and  generous  neighbour,  himself  a  student  of  ecclesi 
astical  history  and  antiquities. 

Very  soon  after  his  coming  into  residence  two  of 
Hort's  chief  Cambridge  friends,  George  Brimley  and 
Daniel  Macmillan,  were  removed  by  death.  The 
memoir  of  the  latter,  by  Mr.  Thomas  Hughes,  published 
in  1882,  bears  witness  to  a  noble  and  affectionate  nature. 


He  left  to  his  friend  as  a  parting  gift  among  other 
interesting  Mauriciana,  John  Sterling's  copy  of  the 
first  volume  of  the  first  edition  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Christy  containing  many  notes  in  Sterling's  hand. 

The  story  of  Hort's  country  life  is  uneventful 
enough.  At  first  it  was  most  peacefully  happy,  it  was 
only  by  degrees  that  he  became  conscious  that  this  was 
not  the  work  for  which  he  was  best  fitted  ;  in  1861  he 
expressed  to  Mr.  Westcott  his  doubts  on  the  subject. 
But  he  never  came  to  feel  that  it  was  in  any  sense 
unworthy  of  his  powers.  When,  after  fifteen  years  of 
parochial  ministry,  he  returned  to  Cambridge  and  very 
different  tasks,  he  was  always  distressed  if  any  one  spoke 
with  the  feeling  that  he  had  been  wasted  on  a  country 
village.  The  care  of  his  humble  parishioners  was  in 
his  eyes  a  work  second  in  dignity  to  no  other.  He 
took  up  the  charge  with  enthusiasm,  and  his  interest 
in  it  never  abated.  The  work  itself  was  one  for  which 
he  had  definitely  been  preparing  himself  for  years  past ; 
it  was  that  which  from  his  earliest  days  he  had  made 
his  deliberate  choice.  His  recreations  also  were  just 
what  he  would  have  chosen  ;  he  loved  the  country  and 
the  simple  living ;  the  garden  was  his  constant  delight ; 
it  was  wild  and  overgrown  when  he  came,  and  many 
afternoons  were  given  to  felling  and  pruning,  the 
planning  of  beds,  or  the  stocking  of  his  Swiss  corner. 
It  had  been  carefully  laid  out  by  his  predecessor,  Mr. 
Steel,  and  planted  with  rare  and  beautiful  trees.  But 
Mr.  Steel,  who  was  a  Harrow  master,  was  often  non 
resident,  and  the  place  had  fallen  into  neglect.  It  was 
Hort's  great  delight  to  reduce  it  to  order,  and  preserve 
what  he  could  of  the  original  planting. 

He  could  not  but  bring  new  life  with  him  wherever  he 
came  ;  nothing  to  him  was  dull  even  in  the  routine  of 



vestries,  schools,  and  clubs  ;  he  taught  in  both  week-day 
and  Sunday  schools  ;  the  Church  services  under  his 
direction  began  to  revive ;  the  music  was  among  his 
earliest  cares,  and  he  took  great  pains  in  his  preaching 
to  bring  home  to  the  people  the  distinctive  services  of 
the  Christian  year.  To  all  the  details  of  a  country  clergy 
man's  life  he  brought  a  spirit  for  which  'conscientiousness' 
is  too  cold  a  word.  The  fact  remains,  however,  that  in 
the  course  of  years  the  conviction  grew  on  him  that  this 
was  not  his  true  sphere.  His  extreme  sensitiveness  and 
shyness  were  real  hindrances,  and  he  was  well  aware  of 
the  fact ;  valuing  reticence  as  he  did,  he  lamented  that 
freer  intercourse  was  not  possible  for  him.  Again,  his 
sense  of  responsibility  was  almost  morbidly  acute,  the 
delinquencies  of  the  villagers  weighed  on  his  mind  as 
though  caused  by  negligence  of  his  own.  In  the 
parochial  visits,  which  he  paid  to  church  people  and 
Dissenters  alike,  his  manner  was  most  humble  and 
tender,  but  he  felt  all  along  unable  to  speak  to  the 
people  as  he  longed  to  do.  He  was  and  is  regarded 
by  them  with  reverent  affection,  but  they  must  have 
felt,  as  he  did,  the  barrier  of  his  reserve.  It  would  be 
most  unjust  to  them  to  say  that  they  did  not  appreciate 
him  ;  if  words  were  few,  there  was  no  mistaking  the 
man's  life.  It  was  long  after  his  departure  before  he 
revisited  the  parish,  though  he  was  frequently  asked  to 
do  so ;  he  shrank  from  going,  from  an  ever-present 
feeling  that  he  had  failed  there,  that  he  had  not  done 
all  that  he  aspired  to  do  for  his  flock.  When  at  length, 
after  many  years,  he  appeared  one  day  in  the  church 
for  a  wedding,  it  was  touching  to  see  the  hands  of  the 
villagers  outstretched  from  every  pew,  and  to  hear  the 
frequent  appeal,  "  Don't  you  remember  me,  sir  ?  I  was 
so-and-so,"  greet  him  as  he  passed  down  the  aisle. 


It  was  in  the  production  of  sermons  that  the 
difficulty  of  finding  expression  for  his  thoughts  was 
most  felt.  It  seemed  as  though  the  message  which  he 
longed  to  give  lay  too  deep  in  his  own  heart  to  be 
uttered  abroad.  The  difficulty  was  also  doubtless  of 
physical  origin.  The  subject  of  a  sermon  was  generally 
chosen  early  in  the  week.  It  was  thought  over  per 
petually,  and  towards  the  end  of  the  week  he  began  to 
write  ;  but  he  had  hardly  ever  finished  before  the  early 
hours  of  Sunday  morning,  and  he  would  often  sit  hour 
after  hour,  pen  in  hand,  but  apparently  dumb,  till  the 
words  came  at  last,  sometimes  in  a  rush.  Extreme 
fastidiousness  was  in  part  the  cause  of  this  remarkable 
aphasia,  a  habit  of  mind  which,  while  it  secured  that 
nothing  from  his  hand  should  see  the  light  which  he 
might  afterwards  wish  to  recall,  yet  deprived  his  hearers 
of  much  which  they  would  have  welcomed,  even  in  what 
he  considered  an  imperfect  shape,  since  the  perfection 
at  which  he  aimed  was  always  indefinitely  beyond  his 
present  achievement.  But  it  would  be  easy  to  exaggerate 
the  importance  of  this  fastidiousness  ;  at  all  events  the 
peculiarity  was  more  moral  than  intellectual,  the  sense 
of  responsibility  was  almost  crushing.  Nor  did  the 
difficulty  decrease  with  time  ;  he  had  always  felt  it, 
and  he  came  to  feel  it  not  less  but  more  as  time  went 
on,  and  the  greater  the  occasion  the  more  terrible 
became  the  struggle  to  put  his  thought  into  words.  A 
notable  instance  of  this  was  a  sermon  which  he  preached 
at  Cambridge  after  Maurice's  death  ;  this  nearly  caused 
a  serious  illness.  His  last  and  most  painful  effort  of 
the  kind  was  the  sermon  preached  in  Westminster  Abbey 
at  the  consecration  of  Dr.  Westcottas  Bishop  of  Durham.1 
In  the  case  of  village  sermons  there  was  the  added 

1  See  vol.  ii.  pp.  371-4. 


difficulty  of  making  himself  plain  enough  for  his  con 
gregation  ;  this,  however,  he  undoubtedly  in  great 
measure  overcame.  His  village  sermons  show  the 
same  depth  and  concentration  of  thought  which  mark 
all  his  writings  ;  yet  the  style  is  wonderfully  simple, 
and  there  is  no  trace  of  the  terrible  strain  of  com 
position.  The  simplicity  of  these  discourses  is  the 
more  remarkable  for  the  absence  of  any  visible  attempt 
at  '  talking  down '  to  an  uneducated  audience.  But  it 
is  the  simplest  writing  which  taxes  most  severely  the 
writer  who  has  something  to  say,  and  one  to  whom  all 
expression  was  difficult  found  this,  which  to  many  is 
hardly  an  effort,  the  most  exacting  work  of  a  clergy 
man's  life  ;  the  writing  of  sermons  was  to  him  at  St. 
Ippolyts  and  elsewhere  accomplished  only  at  a  cost 
ruinous  to  nerve  and  brain. 

The  principal  literary  work  of  these  years  was  the 
revision  of  the  Greek  text  of  the  New  Testament.  All 
spare  hours  of  every  day  were  devoted  to  it;  occasionally 
Mr.  Westcott  came  down  for  a  few  days'  visit  in  the 
intervals  between  Harrow  terms,  when  the  two  worked 
together  for  several  hours  continuously  every  day.  A 
welcome  variety  of  work  was  afforded  by  the  '  Cam 
bridge  Plato'  (see  p.  349). 

Hort  had  left  Cambridge  at  an  exciting  time  ;  the 
revision  of  college  statutes  had  begun,  and  University 
Reform  was  in  the  air.  At  Trinity  among  the  most 
earnest  reformers  was  Hort's  friend  the  Rev.  J.  LI. 
Davies  ;  the  views  upheld  by  the  party  of  which  Mr. 
Davies,  Mr.  Westlake,  and  Mr.  Vaughan  were  the  chief 
spokesmen  were  vigorously  assailed  by  Hort  in  a 
privately -printed  letter,  which  is  interesting  in  many 
ways,  not  least  because  this  attempt  to  state  the  case  of 
the  opponents  of  change  comes  from  a  rather  unexpected 


quarter,  from  one  who  described  himself  as  a  man 
"  whom  his  worst  enemy  cannot  accuse  of  aversion  to 
reform."  The  arguments,  however,  as  might  be 
imagined,  were  hardly  such  as  were  current  among  the 
majority  of  University  Conservatives.  In  University 
politics  Hort  was  always  reckoned  a  Liberal ;  to  what 
extent  the  opinions  maintained  in  this  pamphlet  re 
mained  part  of  his  maturer  convictions  I  am  unable  to 
say,  but,  when  the  new  regime  was  established,  he 
certainly  gave  it  his  loyal  support.  This,  however,  was 
not  the  only  occasion  on  which  he  found  himself  hostile 
to  reformers  in  the  interests  of  what  he  considered  true 

Towards  University  reform  he  once  fairly  defined 
his  attitude  as  follows :  "  I  cannot  wonder  that  the 
prospect  is  alarming  even  to  high-minded  and  open- 
minded  Churchmen.  They  see  this  University  movement 
caught  up  by  the  passion  for  trying  exciting  '  experi 
ments  '  on  the  largest  scale  which  has  lately  seized  upon 
our  sport-loving  people.  Aware  that  old  and  respect 
able  abuses  need  rough  handling,  and  acknowledging 
the  timely  wisdom  of  heroic  medicine,  they  cannot 
welcome  violence  which  gives  no  better  account  of  itself 
than  the  necessity  of  doing  something  strong." 

The  title  of  the  pamphlet  is,  '  A  Letter  to  the  Rev. 
J.  LI.  Davies  on  the  Tenure  of  Fellowships,  and  on 
Church  Patronage  in  Trinity  College '  ;  it  is  twenty- 
eight  octavo  pages  long,  and  is  divided  into  three 
sections,  headed  '  The  Condition  of  Celibacy/  '  The 
Condition  of  Holy  Orders/  and  '  College  Livings.' 
On  the  marriage  question  one  of  the  chief  contentions 
of  the  advocates  of  the  proposed  change  was  the 
difficulty  under  celibate  conditions  of  retaining  com 
petent  lecturers  ;  to  this  Hort  replied  "  that  the  loss  of 



good   experienced   lecturers   was   compensated  by  the 


freshness  of  young  lecturers  "  ("  routine,"  he  said, 
a  much  worse  evil  than  the  possible  awkwardness  of  a 
novice  "),  and  by  "  the  teaching  and  influence  of  many 
private  tutors "  :  if,  however,  more  was  required,  an 
inducement  to  residence  might  be  provided  "  by  dividing 
the  tutorships  in  Trinity."  But  the  greatest  strength 
of  his  attack  lay  in  his  recognition  of  the  value 
of  '  temporary  celibacy ' ;  for  permanent  celibacy,  or 
perpetual  vows  of  any  kind,  he  had  nothing  to  say  ; 
recognising,  as  he  had  good  reason  to  do,  marriage  as 
the  "  greatest  of  human  blessings,"  he  yet  believed  that 
between  boyhood  and  marriage  a  period  of  temporary 
and  voluntarily  imposed  celibacy  was  of  the  greatest 
advantage,  at  least  to  University  men  ;  and  he  could 
see  no  reason  why  a  small  percentage  of  the  community 
should  not  be  made  to  defer  marriage  to  an  age  which, 
after  all,  would  in  most  cases  not  be  very  late,  earlier 
probably  than  that  fixed  by  Aristotle  (thirty-seven)  as 
the  best  for  entering  on  the  marriage  state.  "  I  have 
in  view,"  he  said,  "  a  body  of  fellows,  some  of  whom  are 
tutors  and  assistant-tutors,  shading  off  imperceptibly 
through  the  Bachelor  scholars  downwards  to  the 
youngest  freshman,  carrying  on  a  manifold  work  of 
education  on  themselves  and  on  undergraduates,  partly 
by  instruction,  partly  by  society."  He  had  a  very 
great  belief  in  '  college  feeling,'  and  thought  that  it 
was  on  the  increase  in  Trinity  rather  than  the  reverse  ; 
in  fact  he  valued  the  informal  unofficial  part  of  the  educa 
tion  obtained  by  residence  in  a  college  above  the  routine 
of  lectures  and  examinations.  And  he  thought  that  by 
the  abolition  of  the  requirement  of  '  temporary  celibacy ' 
the  younger  fellows  would  inevitably  desert  college  life 
for  family  life  ;  nor  could  he  persuade  himself  that  the 


society  of  ladies  was,  as  was  sometimes  argued,  a 
necessary  humanising  influence  to  the  undergraduates  ; 
even  under  existing  conditions  the  latter  were  debarred 
from  ladies'  society  for  only  a  small  part  of  the  year. 
He  had  himself  experienced  the  good  of  graduate 
residence,  and  was  disposed  to  be  rather  angry  with 
those  who  did  not  seize  such  an  opportunity  of  useful 
ness  to  themselves  and  the  college  ;  he  could  hardly 
believe  such  persons  competent  to  judge  the  present 
question  on  its  merits  ;  "  those  who  leave  the  University 
at  an  early  stage  soon  lose  their  youthful  prejudices 
touching  life  in  general,  but  have  little  or  nothing  to 
correct  their  prejudices  about  college  matters ;  nay, 
perhaps  the  new  prejudices  which  they  may  acquire 
become  impediments  to  a  truer  view.  There  is  such  a 
thing  as  hardening  in  inexperience."  It  is  perhaps 
right  to  add  that  Mr.  Davies  did  not  consider  his  party's 
views  fairly  stated  by  Hort. 

The  controversy  has  long  been  settled,  and  it  is  of 
little  use  to  revive  ancient  polemics  for  their  own  sake  ; 
but  these  reflections  on  the  ideal  of  collegiate  life  seem 
to  have  lasting  value.  Even  more  valuable  are  some 
of  the  thoughts  expressed  in  this  forgotten  brochure  on 
the  ideal  of  the  ministry  of  the  English  Church. 
Though  not  opposed  to  a  slight  increase  in  the  number 
of  lay  fellows,  Hort  defended  the  principle  of  the  old 
'  clerical '  system  on  the  ground  that  the  education  of 
the  sons  of  English  gentlemen  ought  mainly  to  be  in 
the  hands  of  clergymen.  The  common  sense  of  the 
English  laity  would,  he  felt  sure,  be  strong  enough  to 
prevent  such  a  system  from  ever  acquiring  a  '  Jesuitical' 
character.  As  to  the  evil  effects  of  the  change  on  the 
clergy  themselves  he  felt  still  more  strongly.  The 
most  emphatic  part  of  the  pamphlet  is  an  eloquent 



protest  against  the  doctrine  that  the  '  cure  of  souls '  is 
the  distinctive  and  exclusive  work  of  a  clergyman. 
His  declaration  on  this  subject  powerfully  emphasises 
truths  which  are  at  least  as  liable  to  be  forgotten  in 
1896  as  in  1857,  and  must  be  quoted  entire. 

...  In  all  periods  of  English  history  a  clergyman  has 
been  felt  to  be  ex  officio  a  teacher  or  educator.  This  feeling 
is  now  called  secular,  and  we  are  required  to  believe  that  the 
routine  of  parochial  work  is  the  only  employment  worthy  of 
one  called  to  holy  orders.  By  implication  every  master  of  a 
school  or  tutor  of  a  college  is  accused  of  violation  of  his 
ordination  vows.  The  doctrine  has  grown  up  parallel  with, 
and  partly  in  consequence  of  the  wider  and  more  zealous  view 
taken  of  parochial  ministrations,  for  which  we  must  all  be 
thankful.  But  it  is  at  least  equally  due  to  another  dictum  of 
*  the  public  conscience,'  of  the  most  pestilent  kind,  that  it  is 
the  clergyman's  exclusive  business  to  prepare  men  for  the 
future  life,  as  the  schoolmaster's  for  the  present  life.  Such 
an  interpretation  of  '  the  cure  for  souls '  follows  naturally  from 
the  degradation  of  theology.  That  intelligent  laymen  should 
support  it  is  a  strange  and  mournful  fact,  since  the  next  or 
next  but  one  step  is  to  *  direction,'  and  all  that  '  the  public 
conscience '  associates  with  Jesuitry.  Against  every  such 
heresy  every  devout  and  conscientious  clergyman  engaged  in 
tuition,  especially  college  tuition,  is  a  standing  protest,  and  the 
maintenance  of  a  large  body  of  such  clergymen  reacts  upon 
the  whole  English  clergy  with  an  influence  which,  if  not  great, 
is  at  least  greater  than  we  can  afford  to  lose.  Further,  breadth 
of  teaching  implies  breadth  of  study.  The  existence  of  a 
clerical  body  at  the  University,  drinking  freely  of  all  divine 
and  human  learning,  is  a  standing  and  not  unneeded  en 
couragement  to  every  hard-working  curate  who  rescues  a  few 
hours  for  science,  or  history,  or  poetry,  or  philosophy  as  well 
as  theology,  to  believe  that  he  is  not  robbing  his  flock  of  their 
due,  or  breaking  his  vow  to  "  be  diligent  in  such  studies  as 
help  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,"  since  practical 
knowledge  of  the  Scriptures  implies  knowledge  of  the  creatures 
and  circumstances  to  which  they  have  to  be  applied. 


Theology  itself  is  no  less  indebted  to  the  residence  of 
clergymen  at  college,  and  that  in  two  superficially  opposite 
ways.  Perhaps  the  greatest  enemy  to  theology  just  now  is 
popular  zeal  for  its  supposed  purity.  Nothing  can  be  more 
contemptible  or  more  injurious  to  sound  faith  than  the 
behaviour  of  the  religious  world  to  criticism  and  science,  now 
shunning  and  denouncing  them,  now  caressing  and  patronising 
them,  always  trembling  in  vague  apprehension  of  some  un 
known  destruction  of  which  they  may  some  time  be  the  agents. 
The  Universities  are  looked  upon  with  a  suspicion  which  may 
soon  become  bitter  hatred,  because  they  are  felt  to  be  asylums 
where  the  utmost  freedom  of  criticism  and  science  finds  a 
refuge  and  even  a  welcome,  and  where  the  engines  of  the 
modern  style  of  persecution  are  comparatively  powerless.  I 
am  too  warmly  interested  on  behalf  of  both  criticism  and 
science  to  be  indifferent  to  the  valuable  standing-ground  which 
they  thus  obtain,  but  I  rejoice  still  more  in  the  benefits  to 
theology.  In  such  a  neighbourhood  theological  thought  is 
compelled  to  increased  depth  and  truthfulness.  The  science 
of  the  most  universal  and  eternal  verities  is  driven  back  from 
its  tendency  to  become  a  science  of  names  and  entia  rationis. 
I  do  not  mean  that  all  the  clergymen  in  the  University  are 
free  from  the  popular  terror,  though  it  is  remarkable  to  see  how 
little — and  yearly  less — hold  it  has  upon  men  who  elsewhere 
would  certainly  have  yielded  to  it  entirely.  But  it  is  worth 
notice  that,  when  a  timid  theological  vote  of  the  senate  is 
desired,  its  friends  are  obliged  to  summon  their  faithful  followers 
from  the  neighbouring  parsonages. 

Will  these  advantages  be  less,  you  may  ask,  if  the  resident 
body  consists  chiefly  of  laymen  ?  As  regards  the  interests  of 
science  and  perhaps  criticism,  I  hardly  know.  Much  in  the 
ecclesiastical  history  of  the  last  few  years  suggests  an  impression 
that  a  section  of  the  laity  are  greater  enemies  to  freedom  of 
thought  than  the  clergy  or  any  section  of  them.  At  all  events 
science  can  go  its  way  elsewhere,  without  heeding  what  may 
be  said  of  it.  But  theology  will  certainly  suffer  by  being 
deprived  of  the  wholesome  association  of  which  I  have  already 
spoken.  The  extent  of  the  injury  can  by  no  means  be  rightly 
measured  by  the  amount  of  theology  actually  proceeding  from 



residents.  Salutary  influences  received  at  Cambridge  cannot 
altogether  lose  their  power  when  residence  has  ceased.  In 
this  and  in  other  indirect  ways  the  Universities  act  upon  the 
whole  Church. 

But  there  is  another  equally  important  benefit  conferred  on 
theology  by  clerical  residence.  Anxiety  to  secure  complete 
freedom  for  both  theology  and  other  studies  acting,  or  supposed 
to  act  upon  it,  leads  rightly  to  an  equal  anxiety  for  its  sound 
ness  and  security.  There  are  many  who  hate  the  existence  of 
science  and  criticism  chiefly  as  means  of  shattering  our 
supposed  cloudy  fabric.  By  all  means  let  them  try ;  we  shall 
be  the  better,  not  the  worse,  for  the  attempt.  But  in  abandon 
ing  the  negative  and  now  suicidal  method  of  repelling  heresy 
by  means  of  anathemas,  suspensions,  and  the  like,  we  are 
bound  all  the  more  to  labour  for  the  positive  strength  and 
fulness  of  orthodoxy.  In  this  respect  the  clerical  residents  are 
surely  of  the  greatest  service.  Every  influence  of  the  place 
counteracts  the  tendency  to  make  popular  opinion  the  standard 
of  orthodoxy.  At  Cambridge  those  who  have  sworn,  as  we 
have  done,  to  "set  theology  before  us  as  the  end  of  our 
studies,"  and  to  "prefer  things  true  to  things  accustomed, 
things  written  to  things  unwritten  in  matters  of  religion,"  soon 
learn  to  find  their  best  protection  against  theological  tyranny 
in  our  sacred  books  and  creeds,  and  in  the  genuine  harmony 
of  the  voice  of  the  Church  in  all  ages.  Above  all,  the  lovers 
of  antiquity  and  the  lovers  of  speculation  or  criticism  come  to 
a  better  understanding  of  each  other,  and  are  led  to  recognise 
the  mutual  need  of  true  permanence  and  true  progress. 

The  same  liberal  spirit  is  shown  in  his  words  on  the 
"  invisible  pre-eminence  of  theology  at  Cambridge  under 
the  old  system."  It  was,  he  said,  "an  omnipresent 
element  felt  rather  than  seen."  In  passing  he  criticises 
severely  recent  legislation  of  a  specialising  tendency, 
such  as  the  establishment  of  a  Theological  Tripos,  by 
which  theology  "  is  exposed  to  the  danger  of  assuming 
a  narrow  and  technical  character."  "  A  body  of  fellows," 
he  continues,  "  bound  to  the  study  of  theology  is  needed 


as  a  counterpoise  to  the  influence  of  the  Theological 
Tripos  as  much  as  for  other  purposes." 

Finally,  he  boldly  defends  the  existing  system  of 
college  patronage  of  livings  as  the  "  best  possible  "  ;  in 
spite  of  occasional  anomalies  and  evils  arising  therefrom, 
"  nothing  can  outweigh  the  benefit  of  keeping  up  a 
multiformity  of  types  among  English  clergymen,  and 
thus  helping  to  save  them  from  the  curse  of  becoming 
a  separate  caste." 

The  writer  himself  acknowledges  at  the  end  of  his 
pamphlet  that  "  the  picture  here  sketched  .  .  .  cannot 
be  taken  to  represent  the  actual  state  of  things  without 
considerable  qualification  "  ;  he  was  conscious  that  such 
a  system  requires  a  high  standard  of  duty  among  those 
who  are  to  work  it ;  but  he  thought  that  even  this 
consideration  was  in  its  favour,  since  his  desire  was  to 
rely  on  men  rather  than  on  machinery.  The  pamphlet 
concludes  with  a  protest  against  subservience  to  public 
opinion  in  questions  of  University  reform  :  "  A  college 
like  ours  is  then  exercising  its  most  proper  function 
when  it  is  counteracting  the  prevalent  fallacies  of  the 
day.  We  ought  to  be  the  refuge  for  forgotten  and 
unpopular  aspects  of  truth." 

It  could  not  be  expected  that  this  letter  would  be 
received  with  much  favour  among  Hort's  Liberal  friends. 
He  was,  however,  gratified  to  receive  from  the  Master  of 
Trinity  (Dr.  Whewell)  a  hearty  and  pleasant  letter  of 
thanks  for  it ;  and  at  Oxford  it  was  welcomed  by 
Conington  :  Mr.  Westlake  wrote  a  rejoinder. 

Among  the  parochialia  which  engrossed  a  principal 
share  of  attention  during  the  early  years  at  St.  Ippolyts, 
Church  music  was  specially  prominent.  Hort  had  had 
no  formal  musical  education,  but  his  ear  was  good,  and 
he  had  very  decided  preferences  in  music  ;  he  went 



occasionally  to  concerts  in  London  (and  afterwards  at 
Cambridge)  as  a  rare  treat,  and  most  enjoyed  classical 
music  of  a  not  very  modern  type.  The  barrel-organ  in 
St.  Ippolyts  Church  was  an  offence  which  he  could  not 
long  tolerate,  and  he  took  endless  trouble  in  the  selection 
of  chants  and  hymn-tunes,  to  say  nothing  of  the  hymns 
themselves,  at  a  time  when  the  materials  for  selection 
were  scanty  and  inaccessible  :  both  chants  and  hymns 
were  daring  innovations.  He  introduced  the  Church 
Hymnal^  a  book  little  known  at  the  time.  His  work 
in  this  field  entailed  a  great  deal  of  correspondence  with 
Ellerton,  who  about  this  time  began  to  make  hymnology 
his  special  province  :  his  Hymns  for  Schools  and  Bible- 
Classes  appeared  in  1859,  and  contained  four  transla 
tions  from  Hort's  pen,  of  the  ancient  'Candle-light 
Hymn '  of  the  Alexandrian  Church,  of  a  Latin  Epi 
phany  hymn  ('  The  Lord  of  heaven  hath  stooped  to 
earth'),  of  Martin  Ruickart's  'Nun  danket'  ('All 
praise  to  God  alone,  Heart,  voice  and  hands  shall 
render '),  and  the  Easter  hymn  beginning,  '  Now 
dawning  glows  the  day  of  days.'  Hort  also  gave 
substantial  help  to  Ellerton  and  the  other  compilers  of 
Cliurch  Hymns,  to  which  collection  he  contributed  the 
translation  beginning,  *  Thou  Glory  of  Thy  chosen 
race,'  and  the  Easter  hymn  above  mentioned.1 

At  the  end  of  1857  the  Alpine  Club  was  started. 
A  sketch  of  its  beginnings  was  given  by  Mr.  W.  Long 
man  in  the  Alpine  Journal  for  February  1878,  which 
sketch  was  completed  by  a  paper  of  Hort's  in  the 
August  number  of  that  year,  the  only  number  to  which 
he  contributed.  From  this  paper  it  appears  that  the 
idea  of  the  Club  was  first  mooted  in  a  letter  from  Mr. 
W.  Mathews  to  Hort,  written  February  I st,  1857:  "I 

1  See  Appendix  I. 
VOL.  I  2  B 


want  you  to  consider,"  he  says,  "  whether  it  would  not 
be  possible  to  establish  an  Alpine  Club,  the  members  of 
which  might  dine  together  once  a  year,  say  in  London, 
and  give  each  other  what  information  they  could.  Each 
member,  at  the  close  of  any  Alpine  tour  in  Switzerland 
or  elsewhere,  should  be  required  to  furnish  to  the 
President  a  short  account  of  all  the  undescribed  ex 
cursions  he  had  made,  with  a  view  to  the  publication  of 
an  annual  or  bi-annual  volume.  We  should  thus  get  a 
good  deal  of  useful  information  in  a  form  available  to 
the  members.  Alpine  tourists  now  want  to  know  the 
particulars  of  the  following  courses,  which  I  believe  have 
been  recently  made,  Finsteraarhorn,  Jungfrau  from 
Grindelwald,  Altels,  Galenstock,  Dom,  Weishorn,  Zinal 
Pass,  Crete  a  Collon,  and  many  others."  The  formation 
of  a  Club  was  resolved  on  at  an  informal  meeting  of 
Cambridge  men,  held  November  6th,  1857,  and  Mr. 
E.  S.  Kennedy  undertook  the  necessary  correspondence. 
In  answer  to  his  invitation  Hort  wrote  on  December 
ist,  criticising  some  of  the  proposed  rules  and  suggesting 
names.  He  was  anxious  to  minimise  the  expenses, 
especially  those  of  dining  ;  his  criticisms  were  the  out 
come  of  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Vaughan  Hawkins  ; 
he  also  conferred  shortly  afterwards  with  Lightfoot. 
It  is  interesting  to  note  that  he  suggested  Mr.  John 
Ball  as  a  likely  member.  The  first  dinner  of  the  Club 
was  held  on  February  2nd,  1858:  Hort  was,  to  his 
regret,  unable  to  be  present ;  his  name  occurs  on  the 
back  of  the  circular  of  invitation  in  the  list  of  original 
members,  which  also  included  his  friends  Messrs.  Light- 
foot,  Vaughan  Hawkins,  J.  LI.  Davies,  and  H.  W. 
Watson.  He  remained  a  member  all  his  life,  but 
never  held  any  official  position  in  the  Club.  Another 
of  the  original  members,  Mr.  G.  V.  Yool,  wrote  an 



obituary  notice  of  Hort  in  the  Alpine  Journal  for 
February  1893. 

After  about  two  years  of  parish  work  it  became 
painfully  obvious  that  some  extra  effort  must  be  made 
to  relieve  the  res  angusta  domi  which,  in  spite  of  rigid 
economy,  began  to  be  a  serious  anxiety.  It  was  not  a 
time  when  additional  labour  could  be  welcome ;  the 
overstrain  of  Cambridge  years  had  already  begun  to 
tell,  though  the  breakdown  did  not  come  at  once.  But, 
in  spite  of  difficulties,  some  fresh  work  was  inevitable  ; 
the  literary  projects  already  in  hand  could  not  be 
expected  to  bring  grist  to  the  mill  for  a  long  time  to 
come  ;  meanwhile  he  determined  to  put  his  hand  to 
something  which,  it  might  reasonably  be  hoped,  would 
bring  in  quick  profits.  Thus  it  came  about  that  more 
writing  was  undertaken  in  the  shape  of  some  original 
work  in  English  History.  But  Hort  required  too  much 
of  himself:  after  considerable  research  in  what  proved 
to  be  a  most  interesting  field,  the  only  visible  result  was  a 
fragment  on  the  Last  Days  of  Simon  de  Montfort^  which 
appeared  in  Macmittaris  Magazine  for  June  1864.  The 
unused  materials  were  handed  over  to  Dr.  Luard  and  to 
Mr.  G.  W.  Prothero.  Simon  de  Montfort  was  to  have 
been  one  of  a  series  of  historical  biographies  for  boys, 
but  the  work  grew  to  larger  proportions  under  the 
historian's  hand.  Mr.  Macmillan  soon  observed  that 
Hort's  contribution  to  the  series  was  likely  "to  grow 
into  a  man's  book."  Besides  de  Montfort  he  was  to 
have  written  on  Grossetete,  and  perhaps  Wycliffe  ;  he 
consulted  an  immense  number  of  authorities,  causing 
his  publisher  some  alarm  by  the  length  of  his  disquisi 
tions  on  minute  points. 

Another  piece  of  literary  work  alluded  to  in  the 
letters  of  these  years  was  a  share  in  the  Biblical  Com- 


mentary  projected  by  Dr.  William  Smith ;  Hort's 
portion  was  to  be  the  Gospels,  Wisdom,  and  Ecclesi- 
asticus.  The  project  was  eventually  dropped,  and  its 
place  for  Hort  was  taken  by  a  new  scheme  for  a 
Commentary,  to  be  divided  between  himself,  Mr.  West- 
cott,  and  Lightfoot.  This,  though  abandoned  as  a 
formally  common  work,  was  never  lost  sight  of,  and 
out  of  it  grew  various  subordinate  undertakings.  Hort 
worked  at  his  own  share  year  after  year,  and  dreamed 
of  the  completion  for  which  many  others  hoped  ;  but, 
strangely  enough,  it  is  only  now  after  his  death  that  the 
world  has  an  opportunity  of  judging  what  he  had  pro 
duced  to  set  alongside  of  the  masterpieces  of  his 
collaborators,  the  two  successive  Bishops  of  Durham. 
A  letter  to  Lightfoot,  dated  April  29th,  1860,  suggests 
the  following  apportionment :  Lightfoot,  the  Pauline 
writings  and  Epistle  to  the  Hebrews  ;  Westcott,  the 
Johannine  writings  ;  Hort,  the  historico-Judaic  writings 
(the  Synoptists,  St.  James,  St.  Peter,  and  St.  Jude). 

A  passing  mention  must  be  given  to  yet  another 
unfulfilled  project,  a  non-party  quarterly  review,  to 
which  Hort  promised  to  contribute,  as  well  as  Mr. 
Thomas  Hughes  and  others  whose  names  were  closely 
associated  with  the  firm  of  Messrs.  Macmillan.  Mr. 
Hughes  was  to  have  been  the  editor.  The  articles 
were  to  be  signed.  Maurice  gave  the  scheme  the 
following  characteristic  encouragement :  "  The  ruling 
idea  should  be  the  idea  of  civilisation,  and  all  that 
tends  to  it,  the  idea  which  informed  Plato  when  he 
wrote  the  Republic,  and  which  was  in  St.  Paul's  mind 
when  he  said  '  we  seek  a  city.'  "  This  idea  was  to  be 
indicated  by  the  title  The  Citizen.  The  Citizen  never 
reached  even  its  first  number ;  publication  was  at  first 
deferred  for  a  time,  and  then  for  good. 


Mr.  Alexander  Macmillan  also  suggested  to  Hort 
an  English  version  of  Winer's  New  Testament  Grammar, 
at  which  he  could  work,  without  much  extra  labour, 
along  with  the  Greek  Testament  text.  He  gladly 
welcomed  the  suggestion,  and  intended  to  make  the 
book  more  than  a  translation.  It  occupied  him  for  a 
considerable  time,  but  was  given  up  finally  when  Dr. 
Moulton's  book  l  appeared. 

Yet  another  book  must  be  added  to  the  list  of 
unfinished  designs ;  it  does  not  appear,  however,  that  it 
was  ever  seriously  begun.  This  was  "  a  short  but  very 
readable  and,  if  possible,  vivid  Church  History  of  the 
Ante-Nicene  centuries  (including  a  life  of  Christ),  using 
as  far  as  possible  the  works  of  the  original  records." 
Six  popular  and  comparatively  slight  lectures  on  the 
Ante-Nicene  Fathers,  delivered  many  years  later  at 
Cambridge,  were  the  only  fulfilment  of  this  scheme. 

It  is  sad  work  cataloguing  books  which  never  were 
written,  especially  when  the  failure  was  due  to  no 
falling  off  in  their  author's  vigour  and  enthusiasm. 
Yet  the  labour  so  bestowed  was  not  lost ;  it  survives, 
where  the  worker  was  well  content  that  it  should,  in 
the  finished  works  which  others  have  been  able  to 
accomplish.  Nor  is  the  record  after  all  one  only  of 
half- accomplishment.  While  various  other  tasks  in 
vited,  they  never  distracted  him  from  that  which  was 
to  prove  the  chief  complete  work  of  his  life,  the  revision 
of  the  text  of  the  Greek  Testament.  At  one  time  he 
thought  of  adding  to  it  a  translation  ;  in  this  he  in 
tended  to  insert  "  many  notes  of  interrogation,  or  other 
marks  of  uncertainty  of  interpretation  as  well  as  of 
reading."  This  purpose  was,  of  course,  superseded  by 
the  work  of  the  Revision  Committee  formed  in  1870. 
1  See  vol.  ii.  pp.  134-5. 


The  Greek  Text  itself  had  proved  a  much  slower  work 
than  had  been  anticipated  ;  but  this  was  not  a  matter 
for  regret,  as  the  delay  gave  opportunity  for  using  the 
fresh  light  supplied  by  the  work  of  Tregelles  and  of 
Tischendorf.  Hort  had  been  for  some  time  in  corre 
spondence  with  the  former.  He  had  communicated  to 
him  his  own  and  Mr.  Westcott's  scheme  in  1857,  and 
had  received  from  him  hearty  approval  and  promises 
of  help.  Dr.  Tregelles'  own  First  Part  appeared  in 
July  of  that  year,  and  was  reviewed  by  Hort,  along  with 
part  of  Tischendorf's  seventh  edition  in  the  Journal  of 
Classical  and  Sacred  Philology,  vol.  iv.  No.  xi.  This 
and  other  reviews  by  Hort  in  the  same  Journal  (1855- 
1860)  of  the  work  of  Tregelles,  Tischendorf,  and 
Scrivener  are  important  as  showing  how  the  principles 
of  his  own  edition  were  developing  in  his  mind.  The 
readings  of  the  Codex  Sinaiticus  became  accessible  in 
1863.  It  was  in  1859  that  Hort  and  his  collaborator 
adopted  the  plan  of  doing  their  work  by  correspond 
ence,  each  working  out  separately  his  own  results,  and 
then  submitting  them  to  the  other's  judgment. 

For  one  who  like  Hort  combined  with  his  devotion 
to  theology  an  ever-fresh  enthusiasm  for  science  and 
criticism,  the  year  1860,  in  which  fell  the  controversies 
aroused  by  the  publication  of  the  Origin  of  Species  and 
of  Essays  and  Reviews,  was  to  a  very  high  degree 
exciting.  Discussion  of  these  two  books  fills  a  large 
part  of  his  letters  for  some  months,  and  on  the  subjects 
of  both  he  burned  to  speak  openly;  yet  here  again 
eventually  speech  failed  him.  He  had  been  invited  to 
co-operate  in  Essays  and  Reviews,  but  declined  in  a 
very  interesting  letter  to  Dr.  Rowland  Williams.  He 
contributed  four  years  later  to  the  Record^  a  vigorous 

1  Record,  April  27th,  1864. 



answer  to  an  attack  on  Dr.  Jowett's  Greek  scholarship, 
which  he  believed  would  never  have  been  assailed 
"  by  any  scholar  worthy  of  the  name  in  the  absence 
of  theological  causes  of  difference."  The  immediate 
occasion  of  the  attack  was  the  controversy  at  Oxford 
over  the  endowment  of  the  Greek  Professorship,  in 
which  Professor  Jowett's  contribution  to  Essays  and 
Reviews  was  brought  up  against  him,  and  his  oppo 
nents  found  fault  with  his  scholarship,  quoting  in 
support  of  their  criticisms  some  remarks  by  Lightfoot 
and  Hort  in  the  Journal  of  Philology ;  the  former 
directly,  in  a  review  of  Stanley's  and  Jowett's  editions 
of  St.  Paul's  Epistles,  the  latter  in  an  answer  to  a 
contributor's  defence  of  a  lax  rendering  of  Greek  tenses, 
had  criticised  the  Oxford  Professor's  methods  of  trans 
lation.  But,  when  his  authority  was  quoted  against 
Jowett,  Hort,  with  Lightfoot's  full  concurrence,  ex 
plained  that  they  had  been  criticising,  not  '  ignorance,' 
but  what  seemed  to  them  '  erroneous  opinions '  ;  and 
that  in  fact  these  opinions  as  to  the  rendering  of  New 
Testament  Greek  were  not  peculiar  to  Professor  Jowett, 
but  belonged  to  the  interpretative  method  which  was 
'  generally  in  use  in  England  till  very  lately,  while 
the  stricter  method  now  coming  into  vogue  was  due 
almost  entirely  to  Germany.'  Otherwise  Hort  took 
no  public  part  in  the  controversies  which  arose  directly 
or  indirectly  out  of  Essays  and  Reviews.  All  that  he 
actually  wrote  on  the  subject  apparently  was  a  criticism 
of  Mark  Pattison's  essay,  which  the  latter  declared  to 
be  very  valuable,  regretting  that  he  had  not  seen  it 
before  the  publication  of  the  volume.  Hort  con 
sidered  the  tracts  on  Essays  and  Reviews  issued  by 
Maurice  and  Mr.  T.  Hughes  inadequate,  and  he 
deplored  the  *  smartness '  of  Stanley's  famous  Edin- 


burgh  Review  article.  A  joint  volume  of  essays  in 
reply  to  the  book  was  meditated  by  Hort,  Lightfoot, 
and  Mr.  Westcott,  but  came  to  nothing.  When  it  was 
abandoned,  Hort  contemplated  writing  himself  an  essay 
called  '  Doctrine,  Human  and  Divine,'  but  this  too 
remained  an  unaccomplished  task.  Such  an  essay, 
however,  he  continued  to  think  about  for  a  long  time. 
His  Hulsean  Lectures  delivered  in  1871,  and  published 
at  length  in  1893,  were  in  some  sense  a  realisation  of 
this  long-cherished  hope. 

At  the  end  of  1859  he  had  been  obliged  to  leave 
his  parish  by  a  breakdown  in  health.  A  water-cure  at 
Malvern  was  the  partially  successful  remedy ;  but  it 
was  necessary  for  the  next  two  years  to  take  a  long 
summer  outing.  He  was  abroad  with  his  wife  from 
May  to  October  1860,  gradually  rising  from  sub- 
alpine  places  such  as  Les  Avants  and  Villard  to  the 
highest  accessible  habitation.  A  whole  month  was 
spent  at  the  little  Riffelberg  Hotel,  now  superseded  for